Baby news
by SybiVane
Summary: They have more in common than he would ever admit but with May events leaving him defeated and hopeless, Draco Malfoy lets Astoria Greengrass slowly creep into his heart. [rated M for language, violence, sexual references and drug abuse]
1. Chapter 1

It was an early winter morning when she told him, destroying everything they had within seconds. Suddenly, all warm feelings he had for her changed into hate. He felt deceived and betrayed but primarily confused. How dared she?

Their relationship was based on loyalty and trust, all gone now. He felt helpless and it irritated him to the point where he wanted to hit her. Lack of obedience had always aroused his worst features. It seemed she forgot about what they have established earlier. But did she really? No doubt she should had been in Slytherin. There was no other woman so cunning and so deceitful, yet he had married her.

"It is the most selfish thing you could have done" he said finally instead of screaming. His voice as cold as the air outside the door. Without looking at his wife, he left the room, slamming the door loudly so she could somehow experience his annoyance.

Before they got married, they have established they wouldn't have children. Her sickness was the major reason but it was followed by many others. Draco was a realist therefore he knew that if the new society hardly tolerated him, it wouldn't be amicable towards a child with his surname. It was clear that Malfoy's offspring had no future in this country and his wife was aware of this. Then how could she be so irresponsible, so reckless?

"I want you to get rid of it" he said seriously, returning to their bedroom. Astoria was sitting on the bed with her eyes fixed on her hands. At the sound of his voice she raised her head and looked at him, disbelief in her eyes.

"You cannot be serious" she choked, he could hear her breathing faster.

"It is for its own good."

"You want me to kill our baby for its own good?!" she cried, getting up from the bed.

"It is not a baby, it is still a fetus. The faster you do it, the better."

Astoria shook her head in disapproval.

"Why on Earth would I do it?"

"Because it's an outcome of your disloyalty. We agreed on not having children long time ago. As my wife you should reckon with my will" he said adamant, looking straight into her emerald green eyes filled with indignation.

"You talk like your father" she said, making it sound like the worst curse. "This is how you've planned our future behind my back? You expect us to sit here until the day I die? I thought we've married to live together, not to vegetate."

"I can't afford losing you" he said, his face expressionless. "And you could not live through the birth."

She smiled bitterly.

"We both know this isn't truth. I've been feeling better lately and the blood tests went good. There is no contraindications for me to carry a baby."

"Carrying a baby and giving birth is a completely different thing, Astoria" he said harshly.

"I see you're an expert in this field..." she replied ironically.

"It should be a common decision" he continued, ignoring her. "I'm glad you want to be a mother but did you ask if I wanted to be a father? No, so how did you expect me to react? What, in your opinion, was I supposed to say?"

"Anything beside what you actually said."

He found it hard to tolerate this audacity.

"I trusted you, Astoria" he said calmly, breaking the silence. "But of all people, it is you who betrayed me" he added, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

She laughed shortly, her eyes fixed on the wooden floor panels.

"I did it for you" she said. "I did it so you wouldn't be alone when I die."

Draco looked at her with dismay which she didn't notice, her eyes still down.

"It's been years since war" she continued "but you're still living past. You deprive us of starting a family because you're afraid of people's reaction to it. But you know what, Draco?" she asked, meeting his gaze. "People don't care for us. It sickens me when you keep saying we don't have children because it could weaken me. It sickens me..." she repeated "to know that my husband cares more for people's opinion than for what I desire."

"Someday I will die" she added after taking a deep breath "but when this day comes" Draco could feel his fists clenching "I want to..." she started slowly. "I want to be a mother, experience what every woman does."

"You won't" he cut. "You will die and leave me alone with a newborn that I won't know how to take care of. It will grow surrounded by grieve and hate because its birth will mark the day I lost you. Each day my hatred will increase because seeing the baby will remind me of you."

"Is it really so dreadful? Having someone who would remind you of me?" she asked. He could see a single tear running down her cheek. "This life seems like a cruel joke."

"Maybe you should have reconsidered the perspectives before you married a Death Eater."

Astoria opened her eyes wider.

"You're not bringing that back on, are you?" she laughed coldly. "Just like I said. Your whole life revolves around your past and no matter how hard I try to convince you we both have right to be happy, you..."

"Happy!?" he interrupted her. "You think this is what will make me happy? Seeing you die? Actually, it won't. I was perfectly happy, Astoria. Until today."

Although she tried very hard to calm down, biting her lower lip to blood, her chin was shaking lightly and it was seconds before she started to cry. He hated when she did. Seeing her cry made him awfully uncomfortable and reminded him of times he would rather forget. Normally, he would comfort her just so he wouldn't be tortured with that painful look in her eyes but this time was different. He stood there, completely impassive, waiting for her to speak.

But there were no more words. She seemed confused and unprepared for what happened. She was looking at the door behind his back but as she couldn't leave without passing him, she stayed where she was. Then again she sat on the bed, just so she wouldn't have to look at her husband and involuntarily she touched her belly. Draco clenched his teeth.

"You can't make me feel guilty so don't try" he warned her.

"That was not my point" she replied quietly and after a moment of silence she continued "I had my reasons to do it, Draco. One of them was, indeed my possessiveness but never disloyalty. I thought if I give you a child, you won't forget about me so easily."

"Stop raving, you talk like mad."

"Mad?" she laughed through tears. "Tell me you haven't thought about remarrying after my death!" It sounded like an accusation. "Your parents expect you to have children and I can't see you letting them down."

"I fucking married you against their will!" he cried so loudly, Astoria turned her head to face him, her eyes filled with anxiety. "And still you doubt me" he added more calmly. "If you felt unhappy in this marriage, you should have filed for divorce and not get pregnant."

"Fuck you!" she hissed, getting up from the bed. She rushed to the door but he stopped her when she was passing him and grabbed her arm firmly.

There were many feelings going through his head at this very moment including frustration, hatred and some kind of inexplicable satisfaction due to his awareness of being on the winning position. But then their gazes met and Draco froze.

She was scared of him. Draco understood that there is only one step separating him from losing her and it made him speechless. Since he remembered, she was always by his side. First as a lover, later as a friend. Comforting, entertaining, absolving... _I dare to say you're far better person than you think_ she said once and this particular words were now rumbling in his head, making it impossible to ignore them.

"I'm sorry" he said hugging her. He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt but he didn't mind as long as she didn't pull off. Although he was angry with his wife, her presence was making him feel more stable.

They were standing in silence for another minutes as neither of them knew what to say. Eventually Astoria stopped crying and raised her head from her husband's shoulder. She looked at him with request, her eyes red and puffy.

"Draco, do you want me to... to get rid of the baby... because you're mad at me or... or do you really want me to do it?" she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

"I don't" he replied, shaking his head as if he wanted to confirm his words by doing so. "I don't want anything what would hurt you. I care for your happiness more than for anything else, Tori but don't expect me to be content with your news. I'm not prepared to be a parent. I don't know how to be a parent."

"No one knows until they become one" she said shortly.

"And what about your potions? You won't be able to take them while pregnant."

"I will be fine" she stated but Draco didn't look convinced. "I've been cutting back on potions for a few months before pregnancy" she continued. "I cut off completely in November. But I feel good. You haven't noticed any difference, have you?"

Draco breathed heavily. It seemed her plan was far more considered than he has thought.

"I love you" he said slowly "and we are in this together but... You've been plotting behind my back for months without any remorse."

"Draco, I..." she seemed concerned but he continued anyway.

"I need some time" he said, pulling her off gently.

"What do you mean?" she choked, knowing exactly what he meant.

"I will move out till..."

"No!" she cried, it was clear she wasn't expecting such reaction from him but he was rather irritated with hers.

"Calm down" he ordered, feeling his level of frustration raising. "Few days so I can sort everything out. I need time to think about it."

"To think about what? If you will leave me or not?"

"I told you we're in this together, Astoria. I'm not leaving you but don't you think it's a little bit too much for one morning? I will write" he said and left the room before she could say anything. The last thing he remembered was her amazed expression.

He wanted to stay very badly but there were no words he could tell her. Leaving their house, he cursed himself for being so blind not to see that his wife was hiding her pregnancy from him for at least two months. But was he really that angry with her?

Cold air was pinching him in the face as Draco Malfoy was strolling around the streets of London, feeling fear of the responsibility vanishing slowly in favor of some kind of excitement he felt but was afraid of admitting to.

 _(They would reconcile later, of course)_


	2. Chapter 2

_(Thank you all for reading, it means a lot. There's a little travel in time in this chapter. PS Can someone tell me how to divide paragraphs without using the horizontal line?)_

* * *

Life wasn't easy for people like them but it seemed their family was privileged in being judged. Astoria was proud of her husband for trying to rebuild Malfoy's name in the society mostly because she knew he wasn't doing it for himself. She was full of mute admiration, knowing how much he had been through. With his father avoiding the imprisonment by telling names of other Death Eaters, some of who happened to be parents of Draco's colleagues, the younger Malfoy found most of his former friends hostile. Loneliness wasn't anything that Draco hasn't experienced before but hatred from the people who used to seek his favours, was something new and certainly unpleasant.

The Dark Mark, although bleached, was still visible and driving him mad, reminding of the past each time he believed, he has overcome it. Even before meeting his future wife, Draco would develop a habit of bandaging his forearm and wear only the long-sleeved shirts. It was his way of dealing with the post-war trauma but in this case, he wasn't alone.

Most of people who have experienced war became insecure and passive. Some were crying over their friends' death while others refused to understand why they have survived. Completely lost in the new world, where it was no place for wrecked and lost teenagers, former Hogwart's students started slowly disappearing from people's eyes, hiding in places as dark as their own souls.

Blaise Zabini was believed to be its founder but there were voices saying Michael Corner and Parvati Patil were involved too. At all events, shortly after the war London's Bohemianism was born. It consisted mainly of people from wealthier pureblood families who were aware of their inevitable fall from grace, but there were no divisions. Bohemians had no political or social viewpoints so everyone could come over, without risking being judged by their origin. Seeing people die because of their blood status affected everyone, more or less but always.

The Bohemians expressed themselves through concepts like free love and independence but in fact, they were hiding from the new world, convinced that they were the outcast of war that should be destroyed sooner or later but that couldn't be adapted.

Bohemians' meeting place was an old, dusty pub in a district of London no one wanted to know about. And that was the place where Draco Malfoy met Astoria Greengrass.

* * *

It was commonly known that Wednesdays were the best for coming to the Bohemians' pub. Middle of the week was the moment when most people experienced a tendency for depressive minds. To survive a Wednesday one needed to drink lots of whisky. But to survive a Wednesday with a broken heart, alcohol was not enough.

Astoria found it rather ironic people were calling this place _hell_. It was a sultry summer night and entering the pub, she could feel her dress clinging uncomfortably to her body. Before she could look around, Daphne grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bar.

"Alcohol helps surviving among the fumes of depression" she explained, ordering two martinis. Astoria fixed her eyes on the barman's hands and how he was mixing gin with vermouth in silence.

"Is Theo coming tonight?" she asked when they were served their drinks in the weird-shaped glasses with finger traces on it. Astoria tried hard to ignore the disgusting look of her glass but without success. Slowly, she pulled the drink away.

"No" denied Daphne, looking around the room as if she was searching for somebody. "He stays away on the days, when people whom he doesn't tolerate may come..."

Astoria nodded, knowing what she had on mind.

After the war, lots of people who had something on their conscience and were afraid of the imprisonment, betrayed their colleagues and friends in front of the Wizengamot just so they could get away with their offense. Theodore Nott Sr was one of the victims of such practice and his son — although his relationship with father was rather preservative and harsh — grew hostile towards both, people who betrayed his father and those who were somehow implicated in the case.

"I see Hestia. Go say hi with me?"

"I haven't drunk enough to find her interesting, sorry."

Daphne shrugged her shoulders and approached Hestia Carrow who was sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. Astoria hasn't seen her in months but the moment she noticed her, she knew time hasn't affected the mutual hostility. Hestia was aware of Astoria's gaze and glanced at her suspiciously, frowning. Her thick eyebrows were now forming one, crooked line, what made her look rather grotesquely.

"Sitting in _here_ on a Wednesday night with a filthy drink and no company. I guess being aware of having nice legs is what keeps you alive" she heard a man's voice next to herself.

"Potions abuse is helpful too" she replied before facing her companion. He hasn't changed too much since the last time she saw him although his ice-cold grey eyes seemed darker and somehow sadder.

"Two Ogden's firewhiskies" said Draco Malfoy to the barman as he sat down next to her. "And don't play with me, I'll pay only for the one you keep under the bar" he added seriously before facing her. "So, your idea of fun is drinking antidepressants with your morning tea?"

"I prefer stronger drugs, no offense."

"Then we have something in common" he said more to himself. "To you" he added when the barman placed the drinks in front of them. They clinked their glasses and had a sip. Astoria felt her throat burning but she clenched her teeth and waited in silence until she got used to the taste of alcohol.

Profiting from the opportunity, Draco reached to the pocket of his long-sleeved shirt and took out a little phial. Then, he spilled its content to his glass and shook it lightly. Astoria raised an eyebrow what he spotted.

"It's for grownups, sorry."

"I'm of age" she replied reservedly.

"It's not the age that determines our maturity."

Astoria laughed shortly before taking another sip of whisky, this time ignoring completely the burning, concentrated to hear his next words in the noise of other people's voices.

"It's our actions or so I heard" he added with irony and a false smile. "You're not used to stronger alcohol. Do you even drink?"

"I've already told you I prefer dragging myself" she replied, a tone of irritation in her voice. It seemed he was aware of her discontent as he said:

"We might have started badly. I haven't even introduced myself."

"As if it was necessary."

He smiled bitterly at her words.

"It's hard being anonymous these days..." he said, taking a sip from his glass.

"Still, you work for your bad reputation and don't bother to ask for a name of the girl you're buying a drink for."

"Cruel theory but I have to disappoint you. I know your name."

Astoria raised an eyebrow in question before saying "Daphne's little half-sister isn't my actual name, Draco."

"You said that" he pointed. "Why so pessimistic?"

"I thought it was _en vogue_ " she replied. "Pessimism, depression, complete _weltschmerz_."

He laughed sincerely and it made her smile a little.

"So, do you despise these people who suffer from the pain of existence or do you want to become one of them?" he asked.

"I don't despise anyone" she stated firmly. "I'm downcast but not a Bohemian yet."

"Good, because being a Bohemian means depravity, complete moral corruption" he said with an absent voice, his eyes fixed on the barman, mixing alcohols in front of them. "Why did you come here?" he asked suddenly without looking at her.

"I wanted to forget about my pitiful life for a moment."

He laughed shortly to himself.

"You chose the worst place possible" he grumbled, turning his head to face her again. "Your sister didn't warn you that it's the only topic that occurs in here?"

"My plan established getting desensitized by alcohol and not getting involved in conversations."

A little smirk appeared on his face as he offered her his glass.

"I have my own yet" she replied.

"You say you're an adult so drink like one. Needled whisky is not a synonym of depravity yet."

Astoria brushed her hair with her fingers, feeling her dark curls sticking to her neck. Although it was getting late, the temperature in the pub was still high. Or was it awareness of his gaze, fixed on her legs that made the blood in her veins run faster? Suddenly, she thought there was no point sitting in this loathsome place anymore.

"Why won't we move somewhere else with that conversation?" she asked.

Draco nodded with a smirk on his face as he moved his drink to her.

Astoria took the glass and drank his whisky like it was water. She stood up from the bar stool right away, but the moment she wanted to make a step forward, she stumbled. Draco grabbed her by an arm, saving from falling in front of people but she didn't seem grateful.

"Are you always this gentle with women?" she asked, walking slowly to the door. Draco followed her in silence, wondering if it was drugs in his whisky that made her so malicious or was it her natural behavior that he has been ignoring on purpose before.

* * *

"Are you going somewhere in particular?" he asked, when they were already on the street.

"Air circulation is my only demand" she replied, pulling her hair behind her back. "Do you come in here very often? You don't seem to be bothered by these fumes of mixed human sweat, cigarettes and mustiness while I feel closer to death than ever after spending there less than an hour."

"Only on Wednesdays, I'm busy on other days" he murmured as they strolled through the street, slowly entering these parts of London that were illuminated by lanterns and inhabited by people.

"What do you do?"

"Does it matter?"

She looked offended but he wasn't in a position to care about it so he ignored the resentful expression on her face and continued walking.

"Do you always add cocaine to your drinks?" she asked again after a moment.

"It helps surviving among fumes of mixed human sweat, cigarettes and mustiness" he mimicked her words with a derisive smile. "Sometimes it makes evenings more entertaining... How did you know it was coke?"

"I'm not that foolish... or innocent. I don't know what you think about me."

"If I had thought you're innocent, I wouldn't have approached you" he said what made her smirk involuntarily. "Women with past are the only ones worth talking to."

"You don't feel comfortable talking to people who have less… violent past than you?"

Draco frowned.

"Don't go too far" he warned her with a serious expression.

They continued walking in silence for several minutes when she asked:

"Do you fancy me?"

"Why?"

"What would be the point of wasting a whole night, walking around London with a woman you don't hope to get laid with?"

"None" he answered simply.

They were standing on an empty city street. Lights in the buildings were all turned off and as the moon was covered by the clouds, a single lantern in the corner was the only source of light. Astoria looked up at Draco with an enigmatic expression on her face.

Draco reached out his right hand and she held it. Within seconds they Apparated to some apartment, sinking in shadow. It was almost completely dark and she hardly saw him until he crushed her lips with his own. He rushed as if he was waiting for this from the moment he approached her in the pub but it was Astoria who almost tore his shirt off.

There were no words. Only their breaths and rustle of their clothes, falling to the floor. He pushed her lightly to the bedroom and soon she could completely experience his body, so different to the one she knew... When his forearm brushed her waist, she felt the fabric of the bandage. For a second she froze, understanding what it was covering but then his lips moved from her neck to her collarbones, making it hard for her to concentrate. Before he reached her breasts, Astoria could hardly remember about the peculiar mark of his.

The room was filled with the mixed scents of her floral perfumes and his woody cologne as their tangled bodies moved synchronously on the bed. It wasn't long before she could feel the familiar sensation, verging between physical pain and ecstasy. Slowly, she was becoming overwhelmed by a selfish desire to fulfill.

"Wait" she breathed. Draco raised his head from her shoulder, a trace of irritation in his expression. "My name is Astoria" she said and for a second their gazes met. She could see an unusual sparkle in his eyes, normally completely impassive.

"I know" he said and lowered his head once more to kiss her.

This time she wouldn't interrupt him.

* * *

They were laying in the crumpled sheets, their bodies so close, they were almost touching. Astoria could feel the pleasurable detente and it was the closest to peace of soul she got in months. Her mind was drifting between dream and consciousness as she wondered, with her eyes closed, why would it feel so natural to lay down next to him. After all, they were practically strangers...

"Knut for your thoughts" he said, lighting a cigarette with his wand. She opened her eyes to see him passing it to her. She refused, shaking her head lightly.

"I wonder if my lack of remorse is due to mixing alcohol with drugs or complete depravity" she said sneeringly, her gaze fixed on some square object standing in front of the bed. Although her eyes have already got used to the darkness in the room, she still found it hard to distinguish anything that was in there.

"I believe it's called feminism now" Draco replied, letting out the smoke.

She laughed sarcastically.

"Doesn't it scare you?" she asked then, her voice utterly serious. "This freedom gained accidently and unwillingly? Throughout our lives we were told what to do and still applauded when we did. Now, when nobody cares, we can be everything... or nothing."

"Most of us accept only the catastrophic vision. This is how the Bohemianism was born, through uncertainty and fear of the unknown. We're nothing to the new society of heroes. Or maybe you think differently?"

"I tried to convince myself but one day I understood our choices define us in other people's eyes for a long time..." Draco winced with distress, hearing these words but she couldn't see it in the dark. "I was drifting among the heroes for so long I didn't notice when I ended up under the water."

She sat up on the bed and tried to fix her hair with her hands. He observed her in silence, hardly distinguishing her curves in the dark.

"Being redundant is the cause of dehumanization because in fact, all we want is to be wanted" she said quietly, standing up from the bed.

Draco sat up and threw the cigarette butt into the ashtray standing on the bedside table, eyes kept on her. There was a small gap in between two curtains, causing a thin stream of light fall to the floor. For fraction of a second Draco could see the exact shape of Astoria's milky body that he held in a tight embrace several minutes earlier. Slim waist was widening into round hips that were the preview of her long, shapely legs. He felt a bit of a disappointment when she disappeared in the darkness once again, foolishly believing the light would follow her so he could still see her curves.

He could tell she came back only by hearing her heels on the floor. Even though, he kept straining his eyes to see her.

"My sister probably wonders where I am" she said, breaking the silence. "Will I Apparate from here or is it too far from the pub?"

"Sufficiently close."

She took her wand from her clutch and was about to Apparate when he asked:

"Astoria?"

"Yes?"

"I knew your name. Zabini told me when you came in."

Draco couldn't see the smirk on her face when she Apparated back to the pub but the smell of her perfumes was floating around his bedroom for another few days, making him not only remember her name but also willing to see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

_(Long piece it is. Enjoy.)_

* * *

 _W połowie drogi mojego żywota, pośr_ _ó_ _d ciemnego znalazł_ _em si_ _ę lasu._

 _Las ten co gorsza był zielony..._ _— Witold Gombrowicz, Ferdydurke_

Immaturity was green.

However, certainly not emerald green. That particular shade was unlike any other. Its beauty, the ultimate wisdom despite its greenness. The word itself melted on the tongue like a piece of the finest dark chocolate, a perfect combination of sweetness of the vowels outside and toughness of the consonants inside. _Emerald_ aroused lust and greed. It was the source of craving, a promise of heaven on Earth.

It seemed like a rape on nature to put _emerald_ among those pathetic, immature greenness. Cyan, malachite, pistachio. Those names already contaminated the paper while a willingness to write down _emerald_ caused hand shaking. But the greatest virtue of this particular shade of green was its presence in _her_ eyes.

Since his wife's eyes were emerald green, Draco deliberately favored this shade. Between taking a glass of absinthe and drinking it, a single thought crossed his mind; may the baby inherit its mother's eyes…

"It's only half past one and I suppose it isn't your first drink today" he heard a familiar voice behind his back. Blaise Zabini took off his black coat, all covered in snowflakes and sat next to him, ordering gin, as usual. "Have my favorite wife of yours thrown you out of the house?"

"How's your business going on, Zabini?" asked Draco, not bothering to hide he was ignoring his question on purpose. "I can't see too many people."

"Maybe it has something to do with the timing" murmured Blaise with irony. "What brings you here?" he asked then, looking suspiciously at Draco.

"Celebration" he replied bitterly, taking a sip from his glass.

"I see... Is there any point of asking what are you celebrating?"

"No."

Blaise nodded.

"Does Astoria know that you're here?"

"I'm not a dog on a leash. I can leave my own house whenever I want."

"Stop sulking, Malfoy. I just want to keep the conversation going" explained Blaise, ordering another glass of gin, although he hasn't drunk the first one yet.

"Try once again" advised him Draco.

"I heard you signed some contract with Mungo's" said Blaise after a moment of reflection.

"Yes. It's funny though, it took so long" Draco replied, undoing one button of his shirt. Despite the frosty weather outside, Blaise's pub was stuffy as always. Draco wondered if it was due to its owner wicked sense of humor or the alcohol raising his blood pressure, that the place nicknamed _hell_ indeed felt like the underworld.

"Those rumors about principal importing medicines from Germany were truth, then?" asked Blaise, raising his glass. Of the corner of his eye, Draco could see how his hand quivered.

"I own the business in England yet he preferred to cooperate with Germans" he laughed sarcastically, pretending he doesn't see Blaise's struggle with glass. "Fortunately for me, the taxes were too high and he needed to agree on my terms."

"It's not that easy to get rid of us, the fallen, huh?" asked Blaise with a bitter smile before spilling gin over his clothes. "Shit!" he cursed, enraged. He pulled out his wand out of the coat and cleaned himself quickly.

"We may be no more the upper class but it doesn't take away our influences. We were in charge for too long" said Draco, pretending not to notice what happened with his friend's drink although the progress of Blaise's indisposition due to his nervous system problems was impossible to ignore. "Ministry's underestimation of our prospects is the source of their incompetence and I must say, I'm delighted to see them in need of my services."

Achievement was both, the ultimate source of pride for him and a casual chat topic that didn't raise any issues he wouldn't like to discuss. And what was better than the awareness of being irreplaceable for people who would avoid him like the plague if they could? It was giving Draco an inappropriate pleasure, seeing the government, made mostly of people who despised him, in need of his properties.

As his family had a monopoly for magical potion's production, distributing them all over the Great Britain and Northern Ireland, they were _needed_ for the good of wizarding economy and its development. Fallen from grace or not, the Malfoys still meant something in the society and so did the other pureblood families.

"Yes but our prospects are at the same time our only _redeeming quality_ " mimicked Blaise the words Daily Prophet's journalists would use each time they wrote anything about the pureblood wizards, with a bitter smile. "If it wasn't about our money, they would have already got rid of us. Hasn't it crossed your mind, how easier our lives would be if we moved away voluntarily?" he asked Draco. "Because it has crossed mine. More than once."

"Moving away would mean admitting to a defeat" said Draco, playing with an empty glass in his hands. "Ministry must be aware of the fact we are still here. This country has been my family's motherland for centuries. I would feel guilty, leaving all of this behind."

"Even if it meant peace of mind? A chance to start all over?" kept asking Blaise. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and looked around the pub. It seemed he was waiting for someone but, as the person wasn't coming, a grimace of dissatisfaction marred his face. "Leaving is a synonym of freedom."

Draco knew he should deny but it would make him an awful hypocrite. After all, he was the picture perfect of a man escaping the responsibility. Because what he needed this _few days_ for if not for enjoying the last moments of freedom, torn out from him so suddenly?

"You can run away from everyone and everything but you can never run away from yourself" he said more to himself than to his companion but Blaise smirked anyway.

"You sound like one of my stepfathers and you know what? I've never liked him."

They both laughed shortly at those words, before clinking their glasses, refilled by the barman. The greenness of absinthe made Draco sick but it could have been as well the amount of it he has drunk, that made him feel nauseous. He hardly finished his drink, feeling sudden disgust towards himself. This pub was the synonym of immaturity, the indisputable proof of the blooming greenness of his guts. But it was no more 1999. The century of immaturity and cowardice hidden under the name of decadence was over. Theyput an end to it _together_.

Draco took a deep breath.

"Zabini?" he asked, moving away the empty glass. Blaise raised his head. "What would be your reaction if somebody you care for… care deeply for… I mean, if somebody you loved" words were hardly going through his throat as he never talked openly about his feelings with anybody accept his family "did something against your will, thinking it would make you happy? What would you do?"

Blaise looked at his friend with question as if he was unsure he understood him well.

"It depends of what would it be" he said slowly.

"Something that would affect your life. Gravely."

Blaise frowned. He bit his lip and tried to straighten the fingers of his right hand without success.

"Honestly, I don't know" he said, helping himself with the left hand. "All of my relationships were temporary and the idea of marriage has never crossed my mind. I don't think I'm in a position to talk about drawbacks of it." Seeing his friend's expression he added "If you want me to say I would forgive and forget then yes, I would."

Maybe it was exactly what Draco wanted to hear but at that moment his thoughts were all focused on the manner in which Blaise was talking.

"How do you know it is what I wanted to hear?" he asked angrily. "And why are you relating my question to marriage?"

"I'm not an idiot, Malfoy" murmured Blaise. "You're predictable _as hell_."

"Am I?" snorted Draco.

Blaise nodded, his gaze fixed on his hands that were now leaning on the bar. The right one was shivering lightly even though he wasn't moving it and suddenly, Draco felt a desire to ask him about the progress of his disability. After all, Blaise's nervous system was an interesting medical case and, by the way far more amusing topic to chat for Draco who was already regretting bringing up the theme of his private life. This alternative was all the more tempting as work-related thoughts were letting him keep concentration on something else than his wife. _What a cowardice_ , he hissed bitterly in mind.

"You wouldn't question anything your parents do because you don't speak to them so it's bloody _obvious_ you're drinking yourself to death because of Astoria."

Draco frowned at the sound of her name. For a moment he could see her in his mind's eye, with disappointment in the eyes that made her look sad yet beautiful. He cursed himself, trying to concentrate on his companion.

"I just wonder why it is _me_ who had to say it out loud?"

 _Because until I say it, it doesn't exist; stays in the sphere of thinking_ thought Draco and it made him feel ashamed of himself. Forgetting he has decided to put an end to this carousal several minutes earlier, he asked barman for another shot. Only when felt the bitterness of alcohol burning his throat, he came to his senses and all at once he felt like laughing. This peculiar manifest of immaturity of his was so abstract and nonsensical, it was _funny_. And to think he considered himself free, when we wasn't even able to stand on his feet. Ironic.

A wicked smile appeared on Draco's face and it seemed it added insult to injury.

"You've had too much, go home" ordered Blaise, his voice sounding annoyed. "You're not being a good advertisement for this place" he added through clenched teeth, looking at the door with a hard evil face.

Draco turned his head to see a tall man in a navy suit, glancing suspiciously at the two of them. He looked very uncomfortable but it wasn't the reason Draco laughed. Blaise's guest was clutching his black leather briefcase against his chest as if he was afraid of being robbed. Both, his appearance and comportment were making him look ridiculous.

"Who's that?" asked Draco, squinting his eyes at the stranger.

"My pass to the new life" replied Blaise shortly before getting up from his seat. "This gentleman wishes to buy my pub in order to transform it into a small company. Sounds pathetic, taking under consideration the localization but I won't care less if he's real intention is to make a strip club out of this place which I doubt, however."

"You're leaving then?"

"Seems we're both quite predictable" said Zabini, smirking.

"Do you have any further plans?" asked Draco, ignoring Blaise's business partner's impatient gaze now fixed on him. Blaise shrugged his shoulders, waving at his guest to seat down. The man, however, kept standing without moving, looking as if we wanted to run away.

"South, probably" replied Zabini quietly, avoiding Draco's gaze.

"Let me guess, Tuscany?"

He smirked but the tone of his voice disclosed, he wasn't indifferent to his friend's plans. Blaise seemed to have been prepared for such question to come up as he replied shortly:

"You don't care for her anyway."

Although he tried sounding self-confident, his eyes were fixed on the floor as he spoke.

"No, I don't" confirmed Draco "but neither do _you_." Blaise sighed, glancing at his guest who was now looking demonstratively at his watch to show his irritation due to his business partner's unpunctuality. "I have no other feelings for her than respect and I expect you can afford that too" continued Draco coldly.

" _You_ are the last person to preach" replied Blaise with a snort.

"Excuse me?"

"You like to erase the uncomfortable facts from your life but you can't to the same with the memories of its witnesses. I remember well how you got together with Astoria."

Draco wasn't sure what made him more frustrated — the smirk on Blaise's face when he mentioned his wife or the tough past he was referring to — when he got up from his seat and punched Zabini in the face, hissing:

"Don't you _dare_ talking to me like that ever again."

"Get the fuck out of here" murmured Blaise through clenched teeth, covering his blooding nose with one hand, the second one leaning on the bar, saving him from falling. He didn't bother looking at the navy suited entrepreneur who, without doubt was closer to resign from their partnership than ever.

"Good luck with you business" said Draco with an ironic smile before grabbing his coat and turning to the door. When he was passing Blaise's guest, the man moved away with a horrified look on his face.

"Malfoy!" cried Zabini when he was already one foot outside the pub. Draco stopped in the middle on the step and listened to what he wanted to tell him but without bothering to face him. "You fuck off my life like I fucked off yours! I will do _anything_ I want!"

"Good riddance" cried back Draco and then he left the pub for good.

* * *

At first he thought it was cold that hit him, the moment he entered the semi-empty city street, wearing nothing but a silk shirt, despite the temperature being far below zero, but it were pricks of conscience that appeared immediately after his body went through a thermic shock and he sobered up. He breathed in the cold air and coughed heavily, unable to breath out.

"Is everything fine, sir?" asked some man, passing him. Draco nodded and kept on walking faster not to catch more attention. All this time he held his black woolen coat in his bare hands as if he considered freezing himself to death an atonement for his earlier actions.

He didn't care about Blaise's plans considering Pansy Parkinson. He hadn't seen her in years after they parted at variance when he told her he was seeing someone else what made his words about respect for her completely inadequate to the status of their relationship. Draco blamed the natural instincts for feeling the need to show his supremacy by reminding Blaise he wasn't a stranger to Pansy, either but in fact, it was more of an unprepared attempt to discourage Zabini from leaving the country.

Blaise was one of few friends he was left. Even if not the most reliable, proving to be helpless when in need of his advice, Draco would always felt more secure having someone to talk to. Someone who — unlike Astoria — didn't know too much about him but who mostly understood the purpose of his actions and was likely to listen to him. A mediocre friend was better than none and although he has never felt grateful for Blaise's presence, Draco knew his absence would affect his life.

People come and leave, without asking for a permission and the only one that would stay forever is ourself. _Perhaps this is a human tragedy_ thought Draco, turning to one of the tenement houses, _the loneliness_.

* * *

Entering his old apartment, Draco wondered if he was predictable enough to have left himself some whisky in the buffet but to his disappointment, it was empty. Cursing his lack of anticipation, he went straight to the bedroom and took off his clothes, leaving them scattered all over the floor. Then he threw himself on the bed, hoping he could sleep through the rest of the day. The heavy taffeta curtains, drawn as always, were imitating the night and it seemed natural to just lie down and drift away.

Draco couldn't remember the last time he would sleep alone. To his surprise, sleeping in one bed with Astoria on a daily basis was one of few things that came easy to him. Now, with _her_ side of the bed being empty, it was so uncommon it felt inappropriate. No hands wrapped around his neck, no lips in need of his kisses and primarily, no warmth from another body. Suddenly, his king size bed with satin sheets seemed the least comfortable place to sleep on, too big and too cold.

Draco threw the other pillow to the floor and moved his to the center of the bed. He rested his head on it and waited for the dream to come. But it didn't. There was too much noise outside the window but once he closed it, it would get too warm inside the room. Besides, each time he would close his eyes, he heard his wife's voice in his head, telling him her news. It's been hours but Draco still couldn't get over the way she said it, without hesitation and with a smile that added her more glow, as if she expected to be praised… _Draco, we will have a baby. I'm pregnant._

He wished he had whisky on him. He yearned for this feeling of sweet unconsciousness and distance from himself he would experience while drunk. To separate from all of the worries and uncertainties, even if for a moment.

"I'm going to be a father" he whispered to himself.

The sound of these words was strange and made him feel uncomfortable. _Father, father, father, father, father_ he repeated in mind. With every repetition the word sounded more and more ridiculous and out of place. For Draco, this word was, for a long time, a synonym of a rule model, somebody he stood up to all his childhood and whom he wanted to make proud. To assume _anyone_ would think like that about him was madness.

Draco closed his eyes and went back to the memories of his childhood. He remembered how much he adored the man he would call father. Powerful, influential, highly respected in the society, his father was the ultimate source of his son's pride. People feared him and strived for his attention while Draco had him around on a daily basis what made him feel rather favored. For him, this successful man was the one who taught him how to play Quidditch and who was taking him abroad regularly (to envy of Draco's friends) to see how the family's business was prospering. His father was someone Draco knew he could always count on, someone who would always take his side and protect him if needed…

Comparing to this memory, he himself seemed to be the opposite of who father was. Obviously, he had money but was hardly respected by the society, with most of people preferring to keep away from him. The surname, once the source of glory was now equal to the curse and, although Draco was trying hard to rebuild his family's name, it proved to be harder than he had expected. He remembered the times introducing himself alone was making him feel superior but nowadays, he preferred to skip this part of conversation. The idea of passing his surname to an innocent child seemed like burdening it with a luggage too heavy to carry.

Draco's unlimited adoration for his father was also connected with the relationship he would have with his wife. It wasn't hard to love his mother. With her incontestable beauty, Draco wondered how is it possible _not_ to be in love with her. But his parents' relationship was something more than his father's admiration of his mother's looks. Draco didn't understand it but since she looked at him _this_ way, it was obvious his father was a well chosen rule model.

Mothers had big influence of their children's perception of their fathers and that's why Draco was so anxious. Would the baby like him if Astoria hadn't told it to? Whatever she wouldn't say there was a risk she wouldn't live through the birth and without his wife, he was lost.

The only perspective scarier than raising a baby was raising a baby alone. Draco wasn't strong. He didn't have the power to protect even himself from other people's reluctance, not to talk about the other members of his family. He was hiding it well, even from his relatives but under the suit he was a wreck of a man. He had _none_ of the features that a father should posses and so he had no right to call himself one.

Lying on his back, with a hand resting on his forehead, Draco felt a single tear streaming down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly as if he was afraid somebody would see it. Acceptance was what people craved, with no exceptions.

* * *

 _1999_

It was one of many Wednesday nights he would spend in Blaise Zabini's pub, drinking one whisky after another, sometimes with a bit of additional cocaine. He was sitting along with Blaise in the darkest corner of the room where his friend would finalize the illegal businesses concentrated on selling cocaine to his guests when Daphne Greengrass entered the pub. It wouldn't be anything new or strange if not for her companion.

"I see future Mrs Nott teaches her maid of honor how to follow her" murmured Blaise, looking at the new guests. "Too bad she hasn't already got Astoria a basket of flowers to throw under her feet…" he added with a grin.

"Astoria?" repeated Draco, keeping his gaze on the brunette. She didn't seem too enthusiastic, mix of disappointment and boredom in her expression.

"Daphne's sister" said Blaise, writing down something in his records. "Poor little snake, tangled between ravens by accident."

"Weird name" said Draco instead of asking Blaise what he meant, not wanting to sound too interested.

"Indeed. I bet it was _Asteria_ in mythology…" replied Zabini, focused on his paperwork. "It's possible, though her father got drunk after he found out it's a girl again and wrote the name incorrectly" he added sneeringly.

Draco laughed at his friend's words but his gaze was following Astoria's every move. She sat on a bar stool and crossed her legs, what made her dress pull up a little. Seeing her bare thighs made him focus even more but, to his disappointment, aware of this wardrobe malfunction, Astoria quickly pulled the dress down.

"I haven't seen her before. Does she come here often?" he asked Blaise, smirking at the distress in Astoria's eyes as she was given some drink by her sister.

"I don't think so. As far as I know she's in a _happy_ relationship."

Draco frowned, unprepared for such an answer.

"No one in a happy relationship comes here" he reminded Blaise, his gaze fixed on Astoria's legs. He came to conclusion she had very shapely calfs what the black leather high-heels were just emphasizing.

"All I'm saying is that she's taken" said Zabini, but Draco was already too dragged into to mark his words.

"Is that an obstacle anymore?" he asked. Daphne Greengrass said something to her sister and after she shook her head in disapproval, looking with aversion at somebody Draco couldn't see from his seat, Astoria was left alone by the bar.

"I see you're in need for some entertainment" said Blaise.

"Maybe" murmured Draco, finishing his drink. He put the empty glass on a table next to Blaise's files and got up from the couch they were sitting on.

"Where are you going?" asked Blaise, raising his head to face him.

"She's in need for entertainment too."

Zabini shook his head in disbelief but he raised the corner of his mouth in a half-smile.

"Have fun" he said and got back to his papers.


	4. Chapter 4

_(I curse people for making up names still I do it myself. As for now it is part one of this chapter. Bon appetit!)_

* * *

Astoria was sitting at the dressing table, studying her reflection carefully in the old mirror, the central part of the furniture. The old wooden table with her family's arms etched at the top of the mirror's frame — embellished with the pattern of poison ivy's branches — once belonged to her great-grandmother who was given it as a present by her husband once they got married. Astoria had an exceptional weakness for this dressing table so when her father gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday, she almost sinked into oblivion that he missed the celebration, being away in business.

She sat straight, with her chin slightly pulled out — so the neck would seem thinner — and hands resting on her lap, as she was taught a proper lady should do. She smirked to herself at those words. She was far from being _a proper lady_ with that peculiar shadow her gaze would've gained the night before, merging mockery with defiance and vanity. Her appearance was the undeniable proof of the latest events and Astoria intended to remember every detail of that look, from the shadow's under her eyes caused by the lack of sleep to the lips, puffy from the impatient kisses. Her aristocratic features, emphasized by the vain look in her eyes were creating some inquisitive contrast with the disheveled curls and the impression of pillow on her right cheek.

She felt differently, adult and _tempting_ … She opened her mouth a little and licked her lips slowly, gaze fixed on her tongue, wandering through the vestige of the burgundy lipstick on her lips. She studied carefully her reflection as she brushed her hair with fingers carelessly, moving it from one side to another. There was something trashy yet sensual about the way she looked like, with her hair in disarray and the stains of mascara under her eyes. Something savage and unbridled, and this thought alone made her mouth purse in a self-satisfied smirk.

 _We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless_ she remembered, exploring the marks left on her neck and cleavage, touching every single one with her forefinger. She was slowly moving her finger from one lovebite to another, drawing an invisible line that imitated the track of Draco Malfoy's lips. She wandered farer, down the chest, between her breasts, reaching the nipples. All this time studying how her expression was changing under her own touch, the upper lip raising a little, the incisors biting into the lower one.

Suddenly, she heard somebody knocking on the door. Quickly, she moved out the hand from under her petticoat and heard her mother's voice:

"Tori darling, are you ready yet? Your sister has already left."

"I need to dress up" cried Astoria through the door, standing up from the dressing table, glancing at her reflection for the last time, some shadow of disappointment in her eyes.

"Hurry up. You don't want to let her down, do you?"

No, she didn't. As her mother's steps on the corridor quietened, Astoria entered the bathroom, thinking of the reason why Isobel Greengrass* seemed to be _so_ _concerned_ about the wedding. Even though her unfounded solicitude of each detail was forced and insincere, she seemed more involved in planning the ceremony than both bride and groom. Astoria couldn't help the feeling her mother was putting up a show only so her husband would see, she was treating Daphne as her own child.

Astoria bit her lip and switched on the water. She sat on the corner of the bathtub and came back to studying her reflection in the mirror. Having inherited most of the Fairfax's features — from slightly upturned nose to a specific smile that was the perfect combination of sweetness and defiance — she was a picture perfect of her mother. If not her emerald green eyes and the undeniable musicality, nobody would suspect her of being related to the famous Astraeus Greengrass**, the only wizard violinist in three decades to have been on a tournée in both North and South America. A bitter smile flitted across her face. Fortunately, there was also something _good_ she would have taken after her ancestors.

She took off her lingerie before slipping into the bath filled with warm water that was pinching her skin pleasantly. She plunged in her head and kept it under the water until she would start choking. Astoria would find this peculiar occupation utterly relaxing. Immersed, she could hear only the distorted sound of water, streaming down from the tap, that was loud enough to drown out her thoughts altogether. It was one of the few ways she knew, were making her less distressed with herself and lately, Astoria was wondering if drowning herself would mean reaching the absolute peace of mind. Unfortunately, her each attempt to check it ended unsuccessfully because of the natural sense of survival that was ordering her to catch breath each time she would start to drift away. Seeing the constant fight between a body that wanted to live and a brain that wanted to die was making her feel somehow schizophrenic.

Once again, Astoria raised her head out of the water and caught air greedily. _Not today_ she thought. There were appointments to be done.

* * *

Due to late hour, when Astoria reached the dining room — puffy lips and _marks_ hidden under the clothing being the only remains of earlier actions — it was empty. The table was set for one person although the amount of food was enough to please the whole family, what only showed the unfounded profligacy of the Greengrass' that continued despite their rather difficult financial conditions. Lately, they've started rewarding themselves their social fall from grace (adequate to most of the pureblood families) with the sumptuous lifestyle, despite not being able to afford it. All of the Greengrass' valued conveniences but to their biggest misfortune, they weren't fluent in accountancy.

Astoria looked around and spotted a saucer, hidden behind the dish with bread. On it, they were lying three different phials, each one containing a colorless liquid. Next to the plate there was a little card, filled with her mother's fine handwriting:

 _Don't forget about your potions, Tori._

She sighed quietly before reaching for the saucer. Overprotection was Isobel Greengrass' second name when it came to her daughter. It seemed her excessive care and attention dedicated to Astoria were her way of compensating her offspring not being the favorite daughter that Isobel believed she deserved to be. Both, Astoria and Daphne were loved and spoiled by their father but it was clear for anyone who would see them together that it was Daphne who was the apple of Perses Greengrass'*** eye. This special affection, inaccessible for Astoria was often the reason for her tears back then when she was a child. Now, she was almost completely indifferent to this inequity, accustomed to being _the other one_. However, her mother didn't approve of this Appeasement and continued the cold war, using her daughter's disease as an ultimate weapon against the Greengrass'. They could blame Isobel for passing her looks on to Astoria but it were _them_ who were responsible for her health condition. And this awareness alone was making Isobel Greengrass feel above her husband's family and was giving her an improper satisfaction.

Astoria opened the first phial and drank its content, grimacing with disgust as she felt the bitterness on her tongue. She repeated the action with another two phials and then immediately downed it with a croissant, grabbed from the dish with bread.

It wasn't before she has arrived in France that she started having sweet breakfasts. When she came to _Acad_ _émie de Magie Beauxb_ _âtons_ last autumn, she missed a proper English breakfast — the one with scrambled eggs and bacon — more than her family. However, now she found it hard to switch back to the old habits and was reaching automatically for _pain perdu_ instead of rolls. The older Astoria was, the more of the Greengrass' traits she was discovering in herself and the sweet tooth was one of them. With a shadow of a bitter smile on her lips, covered in strawberry jam, she thought she would be much luckier if she had the Greengrass' looks if anything.

She put three sugar cubes into her tea and drank it, tasting strawberry in her mouth.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass shook her head in disapproval, pouting. The shop assistant bit her lip and turned back to the hangers once again. She could be the same age as her stepmother and Daphne believed it was the reason why this red headed woman with a permanent tired expression, kept showing her the traditional long dresses with corsets and flounces. Isobel Greengrass was delighted but lately, so she was with everything what concerned her stepdaughter's wedding and Daphne stopped taking into account her opinions. She let Isobel walk around with the shop assistant, looking for a particular dress while she herself was sitting idle and occasionally shook her head when the women were showing her anything. Her honey blonde hair would slip from her shoulders each time she would do it, showing the golden necklace with tiny laurel leaf that she would never be parted from.

When the door bell rang, Daphne raised her head automatically to see who has come. Suddenly, her face turned gloomy.

"Finally" she said in scolding tone when her sister approached. Astoria glanced at her mother and only when she made sure Isobel Greengrass wasn't around, she replied:

"Sorry, it's been a tough night."

She sat on the white leather couch next to her sister and picked one of the bridal gowns catalogues from the coffee table in front of them. She opened it on a random page and pretended to study the wedding bouquets, so she wouldn't have to look Daphne in the eyes.

"Surely" murmured her sister with a false smile; it wasn't hard to tell she was thrown off balance. "Will you tell me where the hell have you been last night? And, _avant tout_ with who?" she hissed through clenched teeth, playing nervously with her necklace.

"Don't do that or you will break it" Astoria warned her, pointing at the golden laurel although secretly, she wished it would get irreversibly destroyed. This goblin-made necklace was a thorn in Astoria's side and sometimes she thought it was the reason why Daphne would never take it off.

Astoria had the same necklace but with a star as befitted the goddess of falling stars and nocturnal oracles. Accept it wasn't who she was named after.

It was commonly known that old pureblood wizarding families had traditions in naming their offspring after sublime people, matters or occurrences. In case of the well known, most respected family that were the Blacks, it were the star constellations on which depended the child's name. In case of the Greengrass family, it were the characters from mythology, especially the Titans.

However, when Isobel Fairfax Greengrass gave birth on an exceptionally cold March morning of 1982, her husband couldn't hide his disappointment. With his teeth clenched and the sign of helpless tears in the corner of his eye, he brushed his wife's forehead with his lips, saying _you may name her_. Isobel, the American-born heiress of a landlord, decided to mark her baby's origins and so instead of naming it according to her husband's family tradition, she called her daughter after the New York based _hotel_ known for being the property of the richest man to die on _Titanic_ …

"Tell _me_ or I'll tell Isobel" said Daphne, letting go of the necklace.

"Seriously? You're _sabotaging_ me?"

"That's how you treat children."

Astoria breathed out heavily, feeling her cheeks crimson from humiliation. She got up from the couch immediately, throwing the catalogue back on the coffee table angrily. It hit the rest of bridal fashion magazines, set one on another and caused them fall to the ground but Daphne ignored that while hissing:

"Sit down, Astoria. Now."

Her voice was so commanding, Astoria obeyed.

"I didn't take you with me to spend the whole night searching for you" continued Daphne, squinting her eyes dangerously. "Where were you?"

"With a guy" replied Astoria insolently. "Don't give me that look, you've been doing it many times."

"Yes, but with the same man" replied Daphne bitterly.

Before Astoria could answer, they were joined by her mother and the red headed shop assistant, carrying something white and flouncy in her hands.

"Tori darling, you're here" said Isobel, smiling. "Maybe you will convince your sister to try anything out. She's completely unwilling to cooperation today" she continued, looking at her stepdaughter with mocked pity.

Daphne raised an eyebrow in doubt and stood up from the couch. She reached the shop assistant and took the wedding gown from her hands.

"I didn't want Tori to miss the whole fun" she said before turning to the fitting rooms along with the red headed woman who insisted on helping her with putting on the gown.

"Did you take your potions, Tori?" asked Isobel when the two disappeared in the next room. She sat down next to her daughter and frowned lightly at the catalogues scattered around the coffee table. "Choosing the wedding gown aroused similar feelings in me…" she muttered to herself.

"I did" replied Astoria at the question she was addressed, watching her mother taking out her wand from the small clutch she was holding.

"Then, I don't think they work properly. You're pale as death. Are you feeling well, darling?" she asked uneasy, cleaning up the mess Astoria has made with a single motion of her wand. "I'm worried" she added, looking at her daughter with concern.

"I'm fine, mom" cut Astoria. "I haven't slept much, that's all."

"I know your attitude towards this subject, Tori but your aunt owled me lately" Astoria rolled her eyes, knowing the exact words that would occur now. "There is a healer in New York who…"

"Shall we not talk about it here, please?" she asked, trying to maintain the proper tone although each following word that would come out of her mother's mouth made her more frustrated.

"He says there are potions…"

"No!" cried Astoria, her voice sounding hysterical. "I mean…" she added, feeling she has crossed the line. "We both know it's pointless."

She said it with her eyes fixed on the tip of her pumps, avoiding her mother's gaze.

Over the years Perses and Isobel Greengrass were searching for a healer who would find a way to treat their daughter but without any further success. There would occur frauds who ensured them they knew the same cases and know how to cure them but sooner or later those _healers_ would disappear with considerable amount of money Perses would have given them. Until now her father lost the sum of money that corresponded to the one third of Astoria's dowry and — although he would never admit it — it was the reason why he has became less eager to continue searching for _panacea_ lately. The ugly truth was, the chances for marriage increased along with the amount of coins in bride's chest, no matter what was her health condition.

"Oh, darling…" whispered Isobel, lying her hand on Astoria's shoulder. "I think we shouldn't give up. If…" she started but was interrupted immediately.

"If what, mum?" hissed Astoria, forcing a sarcastic smile. She could feel her chin quiver. "We all know I am not destined for…" she took a deep breath, holding back the tears "…life."

"Tori…" Isobel bit her lip, thinking of a possible response but then they heard Daphne's voice from behind the wall. She entered the room, wearing a snow white wedding gown. It was a simple Edwardian style dress with a delicate flower pattern embroidered with a silver thread. The cleavage was all covered with something that reminded a shawl but what was nearly transparent, exposing the laurel necklace on Daphne's neck.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning around. Her honey blonde hair raised slightly and fell back onto her shoulders. Astoria had to admit her sister looked beautiful and for a fracture of a second she wondered if she would look as alluring, wearing it…

"It fits you" said Isobel, moving her hand from Astoria's shoulder and standing up from the couch. She approached Daphne to have a closer look. "Lovely yet traditional. What do you think, Tori?" she asked, turning her gaze on her daughter.

"I thought you wanted the écru one" replied Astoria indifferently. There was no sign of an earlier emotion in her voice. "With the trail twice as long as the aisle and your mom's…"

"Sapphire earrings" they ended at the same time. "Yes, I did" admitted Daphne, nodding her head. It seemed as if she recalled the memory of their childhood and for a moment a little smile graced her face. Astoria remembered those times as well. The rainy days they would spend on the attic of their mansion, marrying porcelain dolls with stuffed animals and planning their own weddings. It seemed as if those events took place in a different life, back when they were _truly_ sisters.

"Childish raving" summed up Daphne. "Your immaturity amuses me, Tori. Don't tell me _you_ still want to leave the ceremony on a unicorn?" she laughed with a pitiful smile. Astoria rolled her eyes, holding herself back from a harsh reply.

"No, I don't" she said instead with a false smile. "But I don't think you should settle for anything. It's your wedding day, after all."

Daphne squinted her eyes dangerously.

"It's funny _you_ are to one to talk about it. I thought picking out at random was your speciality."

Astoria shook her head in disbelief. She could feel her heart fastened and — from the challenging look on her sister's face — she knew Daphne was aware of it.

"What was that suppose to mean?" asked Isobel, frowning.

Astoria could swear her heart stopped for a second. She clenched her teeth, telling herself she _is_ an independent adult and nobody has a right to judge her but the moment Daphne opened her mouth, her bravery vanished instantly.

"Nothing" she choked, glancing fearfully at her sister. Daphne had a victorious smile on her face. The moment Astoria spoke, she closed her mouth and pretended to look at herself in the mirror.

"I think I'll take it" she said, breaking the silence that occurred between Astoria and her mother.

"Good" murmured Isobel, nodding her head but with her eyes turned towards her daughter. She seemed outraged. "What is it about _again_?" she hissed, when Daphne disappeared in the fitting rooms along with the shop assistant who was still accompanying them.

"Nothing" repeated Astoria indifferently.

"I'm not blind, Astoria" said Isobel seriously. She never addressed her daughter with the full name unless she was angry with her. "Tell me immediately or…"

"Or what!?" cried Astoria, disbelief in her eyes. "You will _ground_ me?" she laughed hysterically. "You all seem to have forgotten but I'm an _adult_ now and I would appreciate if you started treating me like one" she said with passion.

Seeing her mother's distressed expression, she took a deep breath and continued:

"I'm not blind or deaf. I see things, mom. I know the purpose of this marriage." At this particular word Isobel stiffened. "Don't look horrid, you agreed on it too" said Astoria and it seemed her mother's embarrassment pleased her.

"Astoria…" murmured Isobel with her eyes down.

"The Notts are broke" continued Astoria, ignoring her. "Or should I say the _Nott_?" she smiled bitterly. "The trial left him ruined and an orphan. With faint means, his only virtue left is his _blood status_ so he decided to get married, hoping for a considerable dowry of his bride."

Isobel Greengrass sighed but didn't raise her gaze from her hands. She played nervously with the rings of her left hand, avoiding facing her daughter.

"Dad isn't a foolish man, he knew" said Astoria after a moment of silence. "But each day chances for the _proper_ marriages of his daughters fade so he agreed, he gave away his _precious little girl_ " she couldn't stop herself from mimicking Perses Greengrass' words "to a fraud, for this is who Theodor Nott Junior is. And why? To keep the tradition of the society that is almost died out." She sighed quietly before adding. "It is sad that the members of the _superior_ families share such a pitiful fate…"

"Still, getting married seems more optimistic vision than becoming an embittered old maid who count the days until her death, isn't it?" muttered Daphne, entering the room. She was wearing her regular short-sleeved dress girded with a belt on waist. She stood with her arms akimbo and a hard evil face. "If you're so scandalized by my wedding, don't bother coming" she said before turning to the cash desk, leaving Astoria disbelieving and Isobel, in a deep shock.

* * *

The following days were exceptionally quiet in the Dartford's mansion with the host gone in business in London and his daughters being at odds. The Greengrass sisters were ignoring each other entirely. The real cold war has became, Daphne being the communist USRR and Astoria, the democratic Eastern Block led by USA. The only difference being, there was no secret armaments race but the penetrating silence and dangerous glances.

As the wedding approached, Isobel Greengrass — in order to lighten her husband's (rather than her stepdaughter's) load — took care of the final preparations. The ceremony was supposed to take place in the garden of their mansion and end up inside the house with a formal dinner so the hostess was spending her days coursing between parlor and garden, giving instructions to the household and slowly losing her voice. As reasonable as it was, organizing the wedding in the Greengrass' mansion, taking under consideration the means of both families and their doubtful social position, both Isobel and her husband were feeling rather downcast about it. Especially the host, accustomed to the luxury he couldn't afford, was disappointed with the overwhelming modesty. It wasn't how he has imagined his _precious little girl's_ wedding day.

For her husband's sake, Isobel decided to remain silent about the quarrel between his daughters. As the result, returning home hours before the wedding, Perses Greengrass' biggest worry was the dinner menu his wife has established; too humble _selon lui._

It wasn't until the beginning of the ceremony when — waiting for his daughter — he saw maid of honour's face and understood something has happened during his absence. Hestia Carrow, with her thick eyebrows and suspicious expression was approaching him, holding a bouquet of white roses. But Perses Greengrass quickly forgot about maid of honour's identity when he saw his daughter, walking right behind her. Wearing the Edwardian style dress with a shawl on it, Daphne looked so beautiful, it left her father speechless.

Taking her by an arm, Perses Greengrass felt the enormous pride. For a moment, he forgot about the debts giving him sleepless nights and the circumstances accompanying the wedding together with its excessive simplicity. As the Mendelssohn's march was played, the dark clouds appeared on the horizon as if a warning but the melody drowned out his thoughts and Perses Greengrass walked slowly with his daughter by his side, believing people envied him. How nearsighted he was, considering this wedding his own victory over the new order…

It was Wednesday, 13th of July 1999 when Daphne Greengrass became the wife of Theodor Nott Junior.

* * *

"…I assumed a _one_ night stand happens once."

"I see what you're doing but you can stop. I don't ask for sex."

"Certainly not while wearing these shoes…"

"Certainly…"

It seemed that in a blink of an eye a sultry but bright day has turned into an exceptionally rainy, cold evening. The storm was approaching as two young people stepped out of the shadiest pub in the area. The fair-haired man in a long-sleeved black shirt and the dark-haired woman, wearing her companion's jacket as her only protection from the rain.

The moment they disappeared in the darkness of the street, their hands were interlaced.

* * *

 _*Isobel Fairfax Greengrass (b. 1959) mother of Astoria and stepmother of Daphne._

 _**Astraeus Greengrass (1920—1988) paternal grandfather of Astoria and Daphne._

 _***Perses Greengrass (b. 1950) father of Astoria and Daphne, husband of Isobel Fairfax and the younger heir of Astraeus Greengrass._


	5. Chapter 4b

_(Hello. It's been nearly four weeks since the last update. I hope there are still some amateurs of this decadent image. PS Next chapter will concern the presence and be published sooner.)_

* * *

"Worry never fixes anything…" she said quietly with her eyes closed. "Or so I heard" she added in order to break the silence that occurred after she spoke.

"If you worry not, people consider you cold-hearted" he replied finally. His voice sounded distant but it wasn't due to him standing by the window, on the other side of the room. He seemed abstracted but she could say it only by his tone as her eyes were still closed.

"Unless it is a cold-hearted _woman_ ,nobody cares. If so, then _elle a l'air d'une pute…_ "

"Where does this accent come from?"

"Poitiers" she replied automatically before continuing her thought. "I read once that the true love between two women is impossible and I guess I'm starting to believe it." She sighed, breathing in the air filled with the smoke from his cigarette. "She's my sibling and _still_ I want her to be unhappy… If only it proves me right."

"As far as I know people are inherently egoistic" he replied with mockery.

"Hobbes" she said, unimpressed. "Let mi remind you his influences included Machiavelli."

"Yes" he admitted. "Do you think it damages his reputation?" he asked and she could say he turned towards her only by smelling the smoke more intensively. "Machiavelli's views on human nature are accurate. Egoistic, deceitful, constantly longing for pleasure, that is an exact image of a man."

She frowned in the darkness and turned aside. The night was exceptionally shady, the curtains were drew back and still, distinguishing his body in the darkness was hardly possible. It wasn't until the lighting appeared on the cloudy sky when their gazes met for a second. His eyes were filled with mockery and it made her become sullen.

"In present circumstances, _maybe_ but…" she started carefully but was interrupted immediately.

"No but" he cut and breathed out the smoke loudly.

She sighed and sat up on the bed, resting against the headrest. The heavy raindrops were striking at the window and it seemed the storm wouldn't stop any time soon. She squinted her eyes in search of his but without success. She could only notice the end of his cigarette, burning in the darkness and partly, his lips when he was raising the cigarette up to take a puff on it.

"You know shushing your interlocutor doesn't mean you won the conversation?" she asked teasingly, pulling up the bed sheet she was covering herself with.

"You're in my bed, naked. Haven't I won already?"

He couldn't see how she shook her head in disbelief but there was no doubt he heard her suppressed laugh and it made him smile a little, what she wouldn't know about.

"Before she died, Daphne's mother gave her a pair of sapphire earrings, her family's memento" she said after a moment, returning to a serious voice. "Daphne wanted to wear them on her wedding, as a lucky charm. And _I_ threw them to the lake in our mansion, on purpose."

He frowned, unprepared for any confession of the type.

"You must have had a reason to do so" he replied, not sure if this was what she has expected him to say.

"I had" she admitted and he thought she needed any kind of acquiescence to say out loud what has been pressing heavily on her and not words of absolution. "Still, it was the nastiest thing I could have done. She was crying for weeks…" her voice was getting melancholic. "I think it was all caused by some inferior sister complex" she continued and those words assured him he was right. She needed someone to _listen_ to her. "I used to seduce every boy Daphne fancied only to prove myself I could do it…" she added with pity.

"Seems you weren't _that_ effective" he murmured, throwing the cigarette butt through the window. Without searching her gaze in the darkness, he knew she frowned. "Taking under consideration it is her who got married today" he explained.

She heard his steps on the wooden floor and felt the mattress bending slightly under his weight. He sat down on the corner of the bed, close enough she could smell his cologne, mixed with the cigarette smoke. Now she could see him clearly and it made her a little anxious. There was something worrisome about his expression, so intense it crossed her mind he didn't see her face but her soul, with all the uncomfortable thoughts and hidden fears.

A defiant smirk brightened his face for a moment and she understood he was waiting for an answer.

"I was abroad when they… became so close" she said with a shadow of a bitter smile as if she recalled the memories of these events. "And formally, in a relationship" she added after a moment of hesitation, what aroused his interest.

"Past tense?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You think I would be _here_ if I were in a relationship?"

"Well, I don't know you" he replied honestly, moving his gaze to the window.

His words hit her even though she was aware of the character of their relationship. They were nearly _strangers_ to one other. She took a deep breath, following his gaze. The were sitting in silence, looking at the raindrops splashing against the window and it took a moment before she decided to speak again.

"It was quite serious and I thought it would last" she said with her eyes down. The atmosphere was getting tense and she wished they hadn't started this topic at all but his answer assured her he had no interest in her past and it made her feel some kind of relief.

"Feelings change, don't they?" he asked carelessly and leaned over to grab his glass of whisky from the bedside table.

"Like the weather" she murmured with a sad smile on her lips, observing him in the dark. It seemed the topic was over but to make sure it really was, she picked up another.

"Why do you drink it instead of snorting like everybody else?" she asked, pointing at his drink.

He smirked against the glass.

"It's a dirty work and I prefer to keep my hands clean" he replied. "Why, would you like to do it _like everybody else_?" he asked in a teasing tone, setting the glass aside.

She smiled falsely.

"I want to feel better" she said quietly with her eyes fixed on her hands.

"There are many other ways to make one feel better. _This_ way" he said, pointing at his drink "is probably the worst one. You become addicted too easily."

"You can become addicted to anything" she snorted, moving her hair from one side to another. He followed the move of her hand and took a moment to appreciate the view. She was truly beautiful, with the dark waves running down her bare shoulders and sad, emerald green eyes, sparkling in the darkness. Suddenly, he felt guilty for not paying enough attention to those eyes.

"Yes. Still, I believe it's better being addicted to cigarettes than to cocaine."

"If you are scared of getting addicted to hard drugs then the whole conception of your Bohemianism is fake" she said in a confident tone. "Do you _really_ identify with them or is your Bohemian-self only a creation that gives you the conviction you belong with them?" she asked and her words frustrated him.

"You misinterpret terms" he hissed, standing up from the bed. "We meet to _fuck_ and not to discuss morality or search for an absolution" he said angrily, approaching the window again. He lighted another cigarette before ordering "Leave, now."

She sighed loudly and got up from the bed obediently. She was holding the bed sheet she was covering herself with and it looked as if she was wearing a dress with long trail. She approached him slowly and put a hand on his shoulder but moved it away almost immediately.

"I'm sorry" she murmured. "I… I had no intension in offending you" she said louder, feeling her chin quiver lightly. "Exasperating people, this is what I always do…" she added and turned back, hearing nothing but his breath. She bended down and took her dress from the ground.

"We all want to fit somewhere, _anywhere_ …" she heard his voice behind her.

She was standing without any move, waiting but he had no more words to say. The silence occurred once again and they listened to the raindrops striking on the window. It seemed the storm was slowly passing as the rain was getting less intense.

"Yes, we do" she said finally and, holding her dress in one hand and the bed sheet in another, she turned slowly to face him. His eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness and it felt so _common_. Wasn't it the same expression she would see in the mirror of her dressing each day?

"It makes you a hypocrite to despise me for craving the same as you" he said harshly.

"I don't despise you" she denied immediately. "I think we share the same… issues and questioning your motives, I hope to understand what are my own" she explained.

He smiled bitterly.

"I doubt we can talk about common issues, no offense."

She put her head down, feeling her cheeks crimson. She was still holding her dress in her hands, squeezing it involuntarily and it only made her feel more embarrassed.

"Seeking acceptance is typical for any human being, Astoria. Not for the two of us in particular" he said, approaching her. He raised her chin with his hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "What brings us together is the lack of better alternatives" she tried to protest but he shushed her, putting his pointing finger on her lips. "You said yourself you wouldn't be here if you and your boyfriend were still together" he reminded, letting go of her.

He moved up another hand in which he was holding his cigarette and took a puff on it.

"There's barely a chance you will be accepted by anyone if you will keep pushing away those who try to get to you" she said, licking her lips. She could taste the bitterness of tobacco. "I think you've accustomed to being alone and the thought of letting someone in scares you more than solitude" she added, bending down again to pick up her pumps from the floor. "Before you shout at me again" she started, standing in front of him "know I'm telling you this because I know the feeling from autopsy."

As he remained quiet, she continued.

"After everything what happened _then_ , I can't find my place. I'm lost to the point where I've come to _you_ , a guy I barely know instead of going to my own sister's wedding!" she cried and he noticed her eyes were shining from tears. "But people often do stupid things in the hope of getting better…" she added in a calmer voice before turning to the door.

But then, she felt his hand clenching on her arm.

"Are you better?" he asked.

She turned to face him and looked him straight in the eyes.

"No" she replied, sniffling back tears.

He let go of her arm and put the cigarette in his mouth. With free hands he took her stuff from her hands and threw them back to the floor. Then he took out the cigarette and let out the smoke. She hardly stopped herself from coughing.

He moved closer to her and leaned down to kiss her collarbone. She could feel his breath on her skin and hopelessly believed he wouldn't pull off. But he did.

"Loneliness is easier because the only person who can hurt you is yourself" he said, looking at her. He was still standing close and she wished he embraced her for the low temperature in the room was giving her creeps.

"Even if you are right about me" he continued "know that it were other people who made me become this way. _They_ broke me" he said and she could hear sorrow in his voice.

"Maybe you met the wrong people" she replied quietly. "It would be too cruel if the aim of people crossing our lives would be only disappointing us" she added.

"Life is cruel, Astoria" he murmured with a sad smile and bended down to the bedside table where the ashtray was standing. He took it and crumpled the cigarette although it was only halfway smoked. Then he turned to her again and observed her in silence for a moment before leaning down to kiss her mouth. At first, she remained passive, unprepared for the kiss but soon she found herself pulling him closer with her hands wrapped around his neck. He lied her down on the bed gently and deepened the kiss, tasting her salty tears on his tongue.

The rain outside could have come to an end but the storms in their hearts _au contraire_ ; there were thunders visible on the horizon.

* * *

 _1993_

It was Christmas break during her first year at Hogwarts when eleven-year-old Astoria Greengrass came into her sister's bedroom with traces of tears on her rosy cheeks. At first, she was in two minds, whether it was a revenge Daphne deserved but the moment she reminded herself of her sister's words, she felt new tears streaming down her face and her fists clenching from anger what settled the matter.

After making sure there was no member of the household on the corridor, she closed the door behind her and immediately turned to her sister's wardrobe. She opened it and crouched down to pick up a wooden chest from under the drawer with socks. She wasn't mistaken, the little leather box was still there, covered under the dried flowers and old love letters. Astoria opened the box and her eyes brightened immediately. Two silver earrings with sapphires were lying on a velvet pillow as if they were waiting for her to come and take them.

Astoria pulled the earrings out carefully and hid them into the pocket of her woolen skirt. She felt her heartbeat hastening as when she was copying her classmate's essay before the history of magic lesson. Was it _really_ worth it? she thought, feeling the earrings weigh in her pocket.

 _"Your mom is a slut and so are you! Is she hadn't been pregnant, dad would have never married her! If not her, my mom would be still alive!"_

Astoria breathed heavily and putted aside everything so Daphne wouldn't notice she took anything. She checked if the earrings were still in her pocket and only when she noticed the glittering sapphires, she run out of her sister's bedroom. She didn't care if the household saw her, not now when she got what she wanted. She ran until she reached the lake, located at the end of their garden. She felt hot but it took only few minutes for her to feel the overwhelming cold. Storming out of the mansion, she forgot to put on a coat and, as the result, she was standing outside wearing nothing but the fine silky sweater. Her body shivered and she found it hard to take the earrings out of her skirt. For a moment she thought it may have been a sign she shouldn't do what she planned but then again, she remembered her sister's words:

 _"We are not sisters, Astoria. Don't speak to me in front of people, especially not in front of Pansy. I don't want you to embarrass me. It is she who told me the truth about your mom."_

Astoria stood in front of the lake, holding the earrings firmly. Her skin was so cold, she hardly felt them biting into her skin. It wasn't until she opened her hand to look at the jewelry one last time that she saw blood. The sapphires had red stains and the inside of Astoria's hand was covered in little cuts. She looked at it with horror.

 _"My mom left me her wedding earrings before she died. I will show it to you when you visit me, Pansy. They are real sapphires, very expensive. That's what daddy says. I will wear them on my own wedding. Blue and borrowed, guarantee of luck."_

Astoria felt her head aching from the cold and it made it impossible for her to concentrate. She clenched her teeth and — using all the energy she was left — she clenched the bleeding fist before taking a swing and throwing the earrings into the half frozen lake. She watched them drowning into the deep, feeling satisfaction warming her from the inside. When the sapphires disappeared completely and the water smoothed, Astoria turned back and walked to the house slowly.

" _Merlin sake!_ What happened to you?" cried her mother when she saw her daughter entering the parlor with shoes all wet and her skin crimson from cold. "You have been out wearing like this? You will be the end of me, Tori. How many times do I have to tell you, you _need to_ care about your health? Come to me, you are probably having temperature. What are you hiding there? Tori, don't be silly, show me your hand. _Merlin!_ Have you been playing with the cat again? I told you not to. Are you crying? You haven't done anything bad, darling. Don't worry, we will fix it in a moment."


	6. Chapter 5

_(Hello! I invite you to read another chapter but need to warn you that the next one won't be published anytime soon. I have one more chapter written but it needs few more touches and at the moment, I have no time to write — I've started Uni one week ago and as for now, I'm overwhelmed with… well, everything. Expect the new chapter in a month, I hope I will be finished with it by then._ _It will consider the past if anyone is curious. PS Thank you for reading, lovely people!)_

 _2006_

When Narcissa Malfoy entered the parlor, the first thought that crossed Draco's mind was, she looked beautiful. Despite being fifty one, his mother looked at most forty three. Her thick blonde hair with no signs of grey, were tied up in an elegant bun on her nape, showing her — a little too pale — skin with almost no wrinkles. She was wearing a knee length pencil skirt and a simple blouse with collar. As each time he saw her, Draco felt proud to have such a beautiful and classy woman as a mother.

Narcissa raised her both eyebrows, seeing who has come, but quickly the surprised expression was replaced with a smile.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you" she said, cuddling him. Draco stood without moving, waiting for the end of Narcissa's show of the motherly affection but some part of him was secretly enjoying the familiar smell of her perfume, the same dark and rich fragrance she would use in the past.

"Where is father?" he asked, trying to sound indifferently when Narcissa has finally let go of him.

"Taking a walk" she said quietly as if there was some greater meaning behind those words. "Why would you ask?" Her blue eyes were trying to catch his but Draco's gaze was fixed on the bookshelf standing behind them.

"I have something to tell you two" he said simply.

Narcissa nodded and walked to the couch, standing in the central part of the room. She sat down and invited Draco — with a move of her hand — to sit alongside her. He did, looking around the room with some nostalgia. This parlor with varnished mahogany furnitures and velvet curtains, hanging in the windows, was the place where he would spend cold autumn evenings back when he was a boy. They would come to their Devon's mansion each year for at least a month as Narcissa believed the air nearer the Atlantic Ocean was healthier and prevented diseases. It wasn't a surprise then, she decided to move there with her husband after their son inherited the manor in Wiltshire.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, bringing Draco back to reality.

"No, thank you" he replied semiconscious. He remembered the times he would sit on the same couch, the only difference being he was sitting on his father's lap and listening to his bedtime stories. Father was the best storyteller, coming up with a new history each evening, although they were all improvised.

"Is everything okay, Draco? You seem absent-minded" said Narcissa, placing a hand on her son's shoulder.

"I've been working late hours" he lied, cutting the conversation. Narcissa moved her hand away as if she thought it was the reason for his coldness. They remained silent and once again, Draco looked back.

He was slowly falling asleep, listening to his mother playing the piano, lying on his father's lap while he was reading _The_ _Evening Prophet_. Draco looked around. Yes, the black piano with ivory keys was still standing in the corner of the room but it looked as if nobody was playing it in a long time.

Narcissa's gaze followed his and for a moment she stared at the piano with some sorrow in her eyes. Whether it was nostalgia for the times when she played regularly — and was listened to — or the ones when they were a family. Whatever the truth was, it seemed she missed it as much as her son missed the times of his childhood, when life was simple and a cup of hot cacao could brighten the most cloudy day.

"Your father…" started Narcissa, hesitating. "Sometimes he comes back early but there are days when he's gone until twilight."

"I will wait" he ensured her, nodding his head as if he wanted to appear more convincing. He could feel his mother was very uncomfortable with him. Haven't seen him in a long time, Narcissa was choosing her words carefully, knowing Draco could lose his temper easily and leave what she feared the most, desperate for his presence.

"Draco, he _is_ sorry" she said quietly and, although he knew this topic was inevitable, secretly Draco hoped it wouldn't appear so soon.

"No, mother" he denied immediately. "It is _you_ " he said and it seemed like an accusation. "You wish we weren't as… _dysfunctional_ and truly, so do I but the damage has been done."

"Throughout your childhood, I've been instilling in you that the _family_ is the most important and that no matter what, its members should stick together" she said in a more confident tone. No events have changed her enshrinement for the Black family's convictions and talking about them was making Narcissa proud and conceited, regardless the circumstances.

"It is hard to finish the puzzle if the pieces don't match" he replied bitterly.

"All our lives we were doing _everything_ to provide you with the best. Both, me and your father… _Especially_ your father, he tried to protect you. You were always the apple of his eye."

"We both know it isn't truth" grumbled Draco.

"What was that suppose to mean?" asked Narcissa, frowning.

"He wouldn't be a caring father unless _you_ asked him to. He could never say no to you. I think it is a constant problem of Malfoy men. They love their women more than their children."

The single wrinkle between his mother's eyebrows deepened as she took a deep breath. She seemed touched by his words.

"That is how you feel?" she asked and judging by the tone of her voice and the sudden sadness that appeared in her blue eyes, Draco understood he has hurt her.

"This is what I know for certain" he said in a softer voice.

"Your father loves you more than anyone, Draco" said Narcissa, a sad smile gracing her pale face. "We both do. I admit, we made mistakes but…" she started but was interrupted.

"You made none, mother" said Draco in a certain tone. "Father did. You are not the one to blame."

"Of course I am! I haven't managed to stop him."

They remained silent for a longer moment and Draco observed how she tried to control herself. There were times he considered his mother weak to the point where she couldn't oppose her husband but he has learnt long time ago that her constant support of his father's views and decisions, were the outcome of Narcissa's loyalty and incontestable affection, not the frailty. And this knowledge made him admire her in some inexplicable manner.

"Tell me, how is your wife?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Better than ever" he replied with a shadow of sarcasm in his voice. However, Narcissa ignored it.

"Does it mean the potions you make for her work?"

There was hope in her voice and as Draco nodded, she smiled almost sincerely. It was the smile that at the same moment expressed her pride as a mother whose son managed to invent a healing potion and sorrow as the mother-in-law who considered her son's wife the reason for him distancing from his _real_ family.

"Good news it is" she said out loud but didn't sound too convincing. "If her state doesn't get any worse, maybe you could _both_ come visit us soon" she proposed a bit against herself. "I'm sure staying here would make her feel much better."

"I have reasons to doubt it" replied Draco coldly. "However, feel invited to visit us in Wiltshire" he added from pure courtesy as he knew, his mother wouldn't accept the invitation.

Indeed, Narcissa turned a deaf ear to his words and glanced at the old wooden clock with family arms, hanging upon the chimney. She looked resigned but even though she said with a quiet sigh:

"I think you should end this row with your father."

"Not until he apologizes to my wife" replied Draco, unmoved by her tone.

"Draco, you father has been feeling worse lately" said Narcissa with emotion. "I don't know how this may end and therefore…"

"The Devil looks after his own" he interrupted her once again with a false smile.

"I refuse to be told such things about my husband in this house" she hissed, changing her tone completely. She was looking at her son with exasperation, her eyes shining dangerously. Draco felt impressed to see this sudden metamorphosis. Once again, he was a witness of the unconditional loyalty of hers that aroused so many contradictory emotions in him.

He shook his head, eyes fixed on Narcissa.

"I don't understand you" he admitted. "This constant need of yours to defend him even though he deserved all he has been given" she has already opened her mouth to reply but Draco continued his monologue. "It is interesting you look at me with such disgust as I'm saying the truth. Have you ever looked at _him_ this way?" he asked but it sounded rather rhetorical and Narcissa remained silent, although she looked irate. "Why do you _always_ take his side?" continued Draco. "Why do you always choose _him_ over other people? Even over your own son!"

"Because" she cried, drowning him "he has only me" she ended quieter. She stood up from the couch and approached the chimney. Turned back on him, she started turning the vase with flowers so the peonies — her favorites — would be more visible over the roses. "I love your father, Draco" she said in a serious voice, without turning to face her son. "As his wife, I am to stand by his side and so I will. If you haven't noticed yet, this is what marriage is about" she added in an haughty voice.

Draco decided there was no point continuing this conversation, hooking on the quarrel as upsetting his mother wasn't the objective of his visit; she was sad already, without him reproaching her the attachment to her husband.

He looked down at the wedding ring on his finger and thought of his wife. He wondered what was she doing at the moment. It was nearly one o'clock so it was more likely Astoria was awaken, maybe reading another Muggle book concerning human nature or the fall of upper classes throughout the centuries. Winter was her favorite season to reach for Russian authors as she believed reading novels based in the country that consisted mainly of ice deserts during other seasons, was killing off the ambiance.

Draco smiled faintly, remembering all the evenings they would have spent discussing the issues addressed in those books like philosophy, morality and society. Astoria would quote him Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky — lying against his chest by the chimney — choosing the parts concerning the topics like duplicity of the political system, privileging the rich or venality of the administration, nothing they wouldn't have experienced in _their_ world.

Unlike many, Astoria favored Tolstoy over the other author, believing strongly in his theory of moral revival. Suddenly, the memory of her, reading him parts of _Resurrection_ became so intense, Draco could almost hear her soft voice and smell the mulled wine in the air.

"Son" he heard a familiar voice and it made him let go of a daydream. He stood up immediately.

"Father" he replied, bowing lightly.

Lucius Malfoy stood in the entrance but he looked so different, Draco hardly recognized him. It was hard to believe this man was only fifty two. He was a shadow of himself, paler and much thinner than Draco has remembered. His skin had some unhealthy yellow shade and his cold grey eyes seemed to have hollowed into the skull what overly made him look like a waxed doll. He was supporting himself with a cane that reminded of the one he used to keep in the past. However, now it seemed he really needed it.

Seeing his son, Lucius' expression was similar to the one of his wife's, surprised and with a shadow of suspicion, but — unlike Narcissa — Lucius' consternation didn't turn into content. The wrinkle between his eyebrows only deepened when his wife spoke.

"Draco has something to tell us" said Narcissa, putting a hand on her husband's shoulder. Lucius sent her a condemning look, irritated with this open expression of affection. She moved her hand back with a quiet sigh.

Lucius sat in the armchair and with a move of his hand, he invited Draco to join him. Once again Draco sat on the sofa and looked at his parents what made him feel rather sad. In front of him, there were two truly broken people. Father, with the remains of unfounded pride in him, although his appearance showed he was already one feet underground and mother, hiding depression that was consuming her from the inside under elegant clothes and sad smiles.

Suddenly, Draco's problems and insecurities seemed distant and of no importance. Here were the two people — once the most important for him — _dying_ and this thought made Draco feel a sort of fear. He has never really considered his parents passing away. Their relationship may have become tough with time and they may have become very distant but they were still his parents and, deep down, Draco believed they would reconcile someday.

"We're all ears" said Lucius in an indifferent tone what made Narcissa — standing behind him with her hands resting on the armchair's headrest — visibly upset. She looked at her son with a silent request to ignore this provocation.

"Astoria is pregnant, ten weeks along" said Draco simply.

He was thinking about the possible reactions of his parents but none of them corresponded to what he heard. Narcissa's face brightened immediately as a beautiful smile graced her face. Draco hasn't seen his mother smiling this way in years. It reminded him of the summer days in Wiltshire when he would show her the quidditch tricks that father taught him…

"It's wonderful" she said but Draco couldn't share her content as this moment he saw the expression of his father's. Unimpressed — as always — and doubting, it overshadowed Narcissa's smile completely.

"I thought you didn't care _whether the Malfoy line dies with you_ " he said coldly. "May I ask what circumstances made you change your mind?"

"Astoria insisted and I agreed" replied Draco in the most careless and confident voice he could.

Lucius raised an eyebrow in doubt.

"Astoria _insisted_ " he repeated with scorn. "It is indeed _wonderful_ news" he said in a sarcastic tone. "However, has your wife taken under consideration she can pass her… disease onto the child?" he asked, sounding innocently but the question was filled with poison.

"Can you tell any case in which curse-caused disease was passed directly from one generation to another?" asked Draco, feeling as if his life depended on whether he managed to defend Astoria from his father's pleas.

"Mind your tone" hissed Lucius, frowning. "Like it or not but I am your father and you owe me some respect" he reminded and if not his mother's begging expression, Draco would question his words without doubt. "However poor my opinion about your wife is, I must say she deserves to be praised. Whatever her objective was, the outcome will prevent our name from dying."

"The gender isn't known yet" murmured Draco, taking a deep breath. He could hardly listen to his father's words and kept reminding himself, he was refraining himself from picking up a fight for the sake of his mother. He glanced at Narcissa whose smile has already fainted considerably. She seemed disappointed with her husband's words but didn't say a thing.

"There are no women born into this family" replied Lucius shortly and it was pointless to question his words as he was right; the Malfoys had only sons.

The conversation seemed to be over as the silence occurred between them. Narcissa glanced at the watch once again and asked whether Draco would eat lunch with them.

"Another time. I have appointments" he lied. "Mungo's has agreed on a corporation" he added to sound more believable.

"So I heard. Congratulations" murmured Lucius.

"We are very proud of you" added Narcissa, trying to warm up the atmosphere but without further success.

"Thank you" he said without meaning it and got up from the couch.

"Draco!" He turned his head and looked at his mother with question. "If Astoria needs anything…"

"She's fine" cut Draco.

Narcissa fixed her eyes on the floor. Lucius seemed uninterested in this unnatural conversation and remained silent, staring at the clock blindly.

"Maybe you could stay?" asked Narcissa again, approaching her son who was already standing on a doorstep of the parlor. "For an hour, at least?" Her eyes were filled with hope and Draco felt like a bastard to refuse her but so he did.

"I have a lot of work" he said, avoiding her gaze. "It was… good to see you" he added but the words hardly went through his throat.

Lucius smirked, knowing it was another lie but didn't reply. Narcissa approached her son, drawing her arms out. They cuddled and Draco felt her nails digging in his skin. He freed himself from her embrace as gently as he could and rushed to the door.

He didn't have to look to know she was crying.


	7. Chapter 6

_(Part one of chapter sixth. Sorry for the delay, I have plans to become the master of irregular publications. The cursive parts are inspired by the book of Zofia Nałkowska called 'Women' that I highly recommend to all of you.)_

* * *

 _If eye was the mirror of the soul, his was black like coal. She stared into his dilated pupils so intensively, she saw the reflection of her own in them. It was almost as if they were looking through the same eyes and everything was dark. The thin grey circles surrounding his pupils reminded of the lunar eclipse and she always had a weakness for anything celestial-related…_

 _The room was plunged into darkness but she was seeing stardust everywhere. The walls were covered in stars, little spheres of plasma luminous in silver. The beauty created by her own mind bewitched her and she hoped he was seeing something just as wonderful — but secretly, doubted it was possible._

 _The silvery glow was encircling them and detaching from anything terrestrial. They were substantive, suspended somewhere between Earth and the sky and she felt an inexplicable gratitude towards him — friendship almost — for letting her into paradisus in her lifetime. How generous it was of him to share this experience with her, to make her an insider…_

 _Her head was filled with emptiness, boundless brightness annihilating malum, tristitia and profestus. There was an immense delight afoot, superhuman delight, marvelous — primordial delight of nonexistence. Thoughts were drifting slowly through the orbits of their minds. Engrossed in the infinite silence, they were physically close but mentally, light-years apart._

* * *

 _August 1999_

When Astoria opened her eyes, the brightness blinded her, although the sky was still grey. It was dawning.

She sat up with her eyes squinted and blinked few times to adjust. With a shadow of disappointment she discovered the bedroom was no longer covered by stars. It was an ordinary room, arranged with materials of the best quality. She sighed quietly, reminding herself that the most beautiful was what had never existed and moved her gaze onto the other side of the bed. With his face turned to her and left hand embracing the pillow above his head, Draco was still asleep and he looked so peacefully, Astoria felt envy.

She got up from the bed quietly, careful not to wake him and searched for her clothes in silence. Only when dressed up, she dared to leave the bedroom in order to see the rest of the apartment. Although it has been over a month since their first encounter, she had never been given a chance to view the rooms.

She entered the parlor and her attention was draught immediately by a piano, standing by the window. It was the real _piano_ _à queue_ made from the lacquered wood and it reminded Astoria of the one her grandfather used to keep. She sat down on the piano bench and looked at the claviers, barely resisting pressing them. They were ivory — long time illegal — so it was clear the piano was old, however perfectly preserved. Touching the smooth surface of the instrument, Astoria wondered if Draco played or was it only a part of apartment's decoration.

Not moving from the piano bench, she looked around the room but there was no sign Draco lived there permanently. The furnitures looked untouched, cabinets filled with never read books. The only personal stuff was Draco's coat, hanging from the back of the couch, where he has left it the night before. The room seemed to be a dummy, imitating the real home and Astoria thought that the other rooms probably looked the same.

Suddenly, she felt the overwhelming sadness for there was some dreadful parallel between the emptiness of this place and loneliness of its owner. It made her feel compassion and some inexplicable affection. She stood up from the piano bench and returned to the bedroom fast.

Barefoot, she came back to the bed and sat next to him. At dawn, she could study Draco's looks in peace, notice details she would not in the night. With every glance Astoria found him more interesting for he could not be considered classically handsome. His features were sharp, but it was only adding his face the expression and corresponded well with the straight nose and visible cheek bones. The silvery blond hair were surrounding his face, single strand falling onto his forehead. Astoria leaned over him and pulled the hair away. He didn't wake up.

She was falling asleep again, half-lying against the headrest when his breath became restless and Astoria opened her eyes, alarmed. It appeared he was having a nightmare, his lips twisted in grimace and eyelids tightly closed. Seeing the two small horizontal wrinkles disfiguring his forehead when he was frowning, a random thought crossed Astoria's head — they were definitely too deep as for a man in his early twenties. She observed him in silence but he was continuously fighting his demons. She moved closer to him and — resting against one elbow on the pillow — pulled out a hand in his direction.

"Hush, you are dreaming…" she whispered, stroking his hair slowly, trying to imitate what her mother would do when she herself was waking up from a nightmare.

This peculiar intimacy made her feel anxious but she didn't let go. She felt his smooth skin under her touch and, although she had touched him many times, it felt new and unexpectedly good. She observed him, amazed with how helpless he seemed to be up against the state of altered consciousness. He differed considerably from the person he was — or pretended to be — while awaken.

She sighed quietly and sat up again. Regardless her actions, Draco was becoming more and more involved in his dream. Astoria noticed he has moved his left hand from above his head. It was clenched firmly enough the skin was so pale, it seemed to be turning blue. It made her upset and so she grabbed the material covering his naked forearm and tried to loosen it. The moment she wanted to remove the bandage, she felt Draco's hand clenching on her arm. She pulled off immediately, hissing from pain.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a threatening expression, sitting up on the bed. He was still semiconscious but his gaze was so hostile, Astoria moved away just in case.

"I asked you a question" he murmured and seemed very irritated. Without taking his eyes from her, he arranged the bandage as it was originally.

"It was too tight" explained Astoria in a weak voice, pointing at his forearm. "The blood wasn't…" she continued, overwhelmed by his nagging expression but before she could end, the room filled with the ironic laugh of his.

"Thanks for caring" he said sarcastically and stood up, putting his trousers back on. "After all, you deserve to be praised" he added after lighting up a cigarette. Astoria frowned at these words and was just about to tell him he could praise a dog and not her, when he spoke again. "You held back for over a month, that's a long time" he admitted. "Still, I thought you would simply _ask_ and not… How to call it? Peeking at me? No, that one sounds insinuatingly, doesn't it?" he asked, looking at her with contempt.

"You don't understand" she murmured in her defense. She was still sitting on the bed, aware of how pathetic it must have looked like. However, she did not move, having concluded she would not feel any better as long as he was looking at her with all this mockery.

"No, I don't" he agreed, breathing out the smoke. "I don't understand why a woman, an exceptionally attractive woman" he corrected himself and, although his voice was harsh, Astoria blushed at this compliment "coming from a respectable family that managed to keep its social position with a loss of few bars of gold only" she was perplexed with his insolence to mention her family's material situation but let him finish "hooks up regularly with the number one public enemy instead of dedicating herself to charity or something equally pointless, what would convince people her origin doesn't determinate her."

He stopped his monologue to take another puff on his cigarette and Astoria observed him in silence, feeling growing resentment. She made up her mind to get up from the bed and approach him. The choking smell of tobacco annoyed her nostrils and it made her upset that without the high-heeled shoes she was too short to look him in the eyes without raising up her head.

"Listen" she hissed. "Whatever your surname is, you have _no_ right to talk about myfamily in such manner" she warned him, her voice shivering from restlessness. Draco could see her eyes shining from anger and it reminded him of his mother, making him wonder whether it was a characteristic feature of every pureblood witch to protect her family's name at all costs. "You have no idea how the… _events_ affected my family!"

He remained silent but his lips pursed in a smirk, showing his disregard. Astoria felt her cheeks burning for she was hopeless. There was nothing worse than being laughed off while defending something one believed in.

"You haven't answered my question" reminded her Draco, ignoring her visible restlessness.

"I don't know, anymore" she murmured with her gaze fixed on him. "I thought we had something in common, shared the same sadness" she added in a less sulky voice.

Draco smiled sadly and observed her in silence for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice lacked in tease but was filled with some made up pathos and it irritated her even more.

"I've been through more than you can imagine, Astoria" he said with his eyes fixed on the burning end of the cigarette. "I don't share the same sadness as you, the one who was escorted out of Hogwarts when _it_ started and spent the whole time safe and sound at home on the countryside" he continued and once again it seemed he was mocking at her.

"The war started long before the final battle" she hissed through clenched teeth, being the first to say this word out loud. "But _you_ wouldn't know. As far as I remember you've missed the glorious times of Snape being the headmaster of Hogwarts" she continued and her voice was so bitter, Draco could almost feel its taste on his tongue.

"I must tell you, you've missed a lot of fun" continued Astoria mockingly. "Defense Against Dark Magic lessons were my personal favorites. This punish-or-you-will-be-punished learning methods were surprisingly effective" she narrated, a bitter half-smile not leaving her face for a moment. "Have you ever tortured an eleven-year-old?" she asked rhetorically. "I did. And up to this day, I can't fall asleep without taking potions for each time I close my eyes, I see this child in front of me" she cried to her own surprise, unable to hold herself back.

Her words left Draco speechless and the unhealthy satisfaction she felt while looking at his perplexed self, made her continue the story.

"There were grades" she added, feeling the irresistible need to make him feel even more distressed. "Regardless the age, purebloods were expected to perform the curses without hesitation as they were thought to believe to be _saving_ the wizard kind from slime…" she started quietly but he interrupted her.

"What grade have you received?" he asked, visibly intrigued by her unscrupulous tone.

Astoria bit her lip firmly and felt the metallic taste of blood on her tongue.

"Outstanding" she whispered, looking him straight into the eyes. "As befits a Ravenclaw" she added, her lips curled in a contemptuous smile.

Draco didn't reply and smoked his cigarette in silence. Astoria thought she attained her end and so she turned to the door, bending down for her pumps when she heard his voice behind her back.

"I was ordered to do worse" he said. "And threatened to be killed off if not succeeding."

Astoria raised an eyebrow without turning to face him.

"Somehow you've managed to avoid both" she reminded him, leaning one hand against the wall to put on the shoes. " _I_ had not."

"You have no idea what it was like" he insisted, shaking his head slowly. "Whatever you had been ordered to do, it doesn't come up to what I had to preform" he continued and seemed to be less and less conscious, looking back at the events of the years before. "Actually, it is ridiculous you _compare_ our pasts" he grumbled, coming back to his old tone. "Or maybe I'm mistaken and you bear an invisible Dark Mark on your forearm?"

She sighed heavily, turning to him. Now, that she was wearing the high-heeled shoes, she was almost as tall as he and could look him in the eyes without raising her head, what gave her more self assurance.

"Give up sarcasm" she said and her voice sounded so harsh, it surprised herself. "Bearing _this_ " she continued, pointing at his forearm "doesn't make you one of… _them_."

Draco laughed shortly to himself, throwing the cigarette butt through the opened window.

"Death Eaters" he said without resistance. "That is how they are called, darn" he added, his voice filled with mockery. "You shouldn't be afraid to call a spade a spade."

The wicked smile on his face was giving Astoria creeps.

"What I think is that you have a tendency to exaggerate" she said. "The war has been a traumatic experience for everyone but you refuse to accept it for it would decrease the weight of your suffering! But you are _not_ the only one in pain!"

"In _pain_?" laughed Draco, looking at her with disbelief. "You have no idea what are you talking about! I lost my fucking _life_ in there!" he cried; it was the first time she would see him so jittery. "I'm convicted to vegetation for the average life is no longer available for me!"

"The feeling is common within _our_ environment" she replied instantly. "You make yourself look as the most harmed but in fact, bearing your surname isn't the obligatory condition to feel isolated. If you weren't so self-centered, maybe you would notice that people around you suffer as well. Especially the pureblood families, they…"

"I don't give a damn about other families, Astoria!" he cried and sounded hysteric. "I don't expect you to understand" he added in a calmer voice "but at least don't make it harder."

Astoria observed him from distance with a suspicious expression.

"The only person who makes it harder is you" she said. "You make a martyr of yourself but there are people who lost much more than you in this war! There are children who lost their parents, there are…"

"I wish I was one of them" he interrupted her in a serious voice and Astoria felt the blood draining from her face. "I wish he had died" continued Draco regardless the horror in her eyes. There was no need for him to say whom he had on mind, she knew and thought everyone else on her place would.

Draco moved his gaze to the window and observed the view, murmuring more to himself than to her:

"Unfortunately, he always finds a way to escape the consequences of his actions…"

"Don't talk like this" she asked in a choked voice. "You're upset and therefore you say things you don't mean."

"Stop!" he cried and she was surprised with this burst, her heartbeat fastened. "Stop psychoanalyzing me!" he continued, turning to her. "Who do you think you are?" he asked, twisting his face in repugnance. "You have no idea… how much I've been through because of him. No _fucking_ idea!" he cried.

"Draco, I think…" she started slowly but was interrupted instantly.

"I don't give a fuck about what _you_ think" he hissed. "Do me a favor and shut up already."

"Don't talk to me like this" she hissed back with a sudden inflow of resentment. It hit her he was offending her for the second time with no will to apologize, what hurt her ego more than her feelings.

"Don't discuss my family matters and I'll be nice to you" he replied seriously, although he sounded more like a peevish child than an adult man.

"I don't need you to be _nice_ to me but to _respect_ me" hissed Astoria angrily.

Draco looked at her with raised eyebrows and laughed shortly.

"This is exactly what I hate about women. They provoke conflicts and then make themselves look like a victim…" he said and his every word made her question everything she knew about him. "You know what was your biggest advantage? Apart from your looks, of course" this time, even the reference to her appearance had no power to calm her down. "You didn't ask too many questions" he explained.

Now, it was Astoria to laugh at him.

"I see" she murmured with a false smile. "All was fine as long as I was under you, in both senses" she hissed and saw the barely invisible blush on his face "but when it comes to discussing anything with me, you…"

"What made you think I would like to discuss anything with you?" he interrupted her angrily, the blush disappearing completely from his face. "Who do you think you are? To me?" he asked but gave her no time to response. "You are a girl for a night, not for a lifetime or whatever you might have been thinking. You mean absolutely nothing to me, do you understand?"

He looked at her hesitantly, waiting for some reaction. They stared at each other for a moment before Astoria grabbed her clutch from the commode and made off the apartment. She found it hard to breathe, unable to stop herself from shivering. The moment she found herself on the street, the hot tears ran down her cheeks.

Draco stood passive, a thought of following her down not even crossing his mind. When he heard the door shut down, he coursed loudly to release his anger and made his way to his study. He poured himself a glass of whisky and took a long sip. The alcohol was burning his throat but he kept on drinking.

Looking around the room, he noticed _Daily Prophet_ from the day before lying on his desk, covered partly by the torn envelops. Draco breathed out heavily and took his wand from the desk. He moved away the envelops and looked at the newspaper's cover with disgust. He touched the corner of it with the end of his wand and suddenly, the _Prophet_ started to burn, the flames avoiding any other object and the desk itself.

Draco observed the newspaper vanishing slowly but even when the headliner burnt completely, the feeling of relieve was not coming. He cursed again and threw everything off the desk, driven by anger. However, it did not make him feel any better.

 _Not so fallen from grace? As his trial finally ends, Lucius Malfoy becomes the only former Death Eater to avoid the imprisonment in Azkaban. It seems the one who said money can't buy everything was mistaken…_

* * *

 _Four days later_

"I spoke to your Healer. He said you haven't done the blood tests last month" said Isobel Greengrass in a preservative tone when the door behind the servant closed and she remained alone with her daughter.

"He told you the truth" replied Astoria indifferently. Lately, she has been afflicted by frequent migraines and lost her will to dispute with anybody.

"Is this all you have to say?" delved into her mother, sounding annoyed.

"I missed the date" said Astoria with a short sigh. Sitting in the dining room alone made her tired and she wished this conversation had come to an end and she could come back to her bed. But Isobel wasn't in an understanding mood, looking at her hesitantly. "I'm coming off the potions at the moment so any results would be inadequate" she added in order to convince her mother she was thinking straight.

"It had never happened before" reminded Isobel with a serious expression. "Why now?"

" _T'en fais tout un fromage_ " murmured Astoria, standing up from her chair. "I forgot, it happens to everybody."

"Come back here, Astoria" said her mother in a grave tone. "You haven't drunk your tea" she added in a softer voice when Astoria sat down obediently. She breathed out heavily and dipped her regular three sugar cubs in the tea cup. With her gaze fixed on the drink, she observed how the sugar melted slowly in the hot liquor.

"You're fragile, Tori" continued Isobel, coming to her natural voice. "Your health is my priority but I won't be around all the time. You need to learn to be more responsible for yourself."

Astoria nodded and took a sip of her tea. She felt a pleasant warmth filling her body and it let her forget about the headache for a moment.

"I got you a visit on Friday, nine o'clock" said Isobel after a moment of silence and her voice sounded a bit resigned, knowing her actions negated her words. "It's important you have recent results when you go back to school" she added as if she wanted to justify herself.

Astoria froze when she heard the word _school_. This particular time in a year, when students were packing manuals into their trunks and putting on the robes with their house's emblem on it, was impending and normally, it wouldn't be anything extraordinary. But this year wasn't normal and the thought of coming back to Hogwarts alone was making Astoria anxious, scared even.

"Do you listen to the word I say?"

"Sorry, I pondered."

"Yes, you have your head in the clouds lately…" murmured Isobel more to herself than to her and took a sip of her coffee, black like coal. "I said" she started in a louder voice in order to catch her daughter's attention. "Horace Slughorn is coming back to Hogwarts as well and it's highly possible he will invite you to his club, for the sake of your late grandfather" she explained, with her eyes fixed on the coffee cup.

"I beg your pardon?"

Astoria seemed truly shocked. Her mother's words were echoing in her head and she felt the increasing pain in her skull. She clenched her lips and put a hand on her forehead. Isobel pouted but didn't comment on it; accustomed to these _states_ of Astoria's.

"If you show your best, there's a chance… Being a member of Slug Club can be _really_ helpful, don't underestimate the affiliation" she warned her daughter but Astoria looked furious.

"Stop!" she cried, moving her hand down. "Do you think anybody cares about this pitiful club of his? Nobody's in mood for discussing their influential relatives over a cup of ice-cream anymore! People are in _mourning_ , mom!" she said, indignant by her mother's suggestion.

"Don't exaggerate" cut Isobel, finishing her coffee. "Painful memories are the easiest to fade" she added and it seemed she was referring to her personal experience. Astoria didn't continue the topic, feeling there was nothing more to say.

They sat in silence. Astoria, drinking her tea and Isobel, looking blindly at the wall behind her daughter's back. The family portrait was hanging upon the chimney and therefore, was entirely visible even if there were people sitting by the dining table.

Perses Greengrass was standing in the center with his wife on his right side and daughters on the left. Isobel remembered how she forced herself to smile without success, the left corner of her mouth shivering slightly, making her look as if she was pouting. But it wasn't Isobel's expression that caught attention — it were her eyes, completely mismatched. Both Daphne and Astoria have taken after their father and not mothers when it came to the eye color and looking at the portrait, Isobel regretted her daughter's eyes were not blue, like her own.

"Your sister owled" she said out loud, moving her eyes to the image of Daphne. Standing behind her sister — as the older sibling, she was higher than Astoria — she was a picture perfect of her father but again, it were her eyes that bothered her step-mother.

"She invites us for Christmas" she continued when Astoria remained silent. "The three of us" she added, thinking it might have not been a certainty for her daughter.

"Why so late?" asked Astoria with a slight frown, taking a pot with tea and pouring herself another cup. "We could go as soon as dad comes back" she added and if not her clenched lips, Isobel would think there was no hostility between her and Daphne.

"Dad won't be back until the mid September" she replied, not looking in her daughter's eyes.

The single wrinkle on Astoria's forehead deepened as she looked at her mother suspiciously.

"I thought he comes back on Monday."

"Something came up and he must stay in Brighton" explained Isobel.

"Wasn't he staying in London?" asked Astoria angrily, massaging her forehead again. The pain was increasing regardless the amount of tea she was drinking and she was slowly losing her thoughts.

"He was" nodded Isobel. "But now he's in Brighton, he owled a note."

The talk about her husband was making Isobel visibly uncomfortable and Astoria decided to stop asking questions. It suited her even as the migraine was getting more and more intense.

It was no secret her parents were having marital problems again, however Astoria doubted if out of the same reason as in the past. Perses Greengrass had problems with fidelity and Isobel — once a thorn in Amara Greengrass'* eye — was aware of this from the early days when their only daughter was born.

A marriage born from infidelity and based on desire had faint chances to last but still, finding out about it was painful. Sometimes Isobel wondered would her marriage had been equally unaffectionate if she had had a son but as the thought alone was making her feel guilty towards her daughter, she avoided it like the plague.

But no matter how many plasters she had sold on it, the wound in her heart was still bleeding, regardless past time. It seemed it was just yesterday when Perses Greengrass would follow her to the gardens and kiss in the darkness, regardless his heavily pregnant wife receiving visitors in the parlor. If only she had stopped him then…

There were times when Isobel thought it wasn't a coincidence it was _her_ daughter to inherit the blood disease her father's ancestors were bearing. She was close to believe it was God's revenge on her and when the nights were getting dark and lonely enough, she was cursing the day her and Perses Greengrass' paths had crossed.

"You're having a hemorrhage again" she noticed, looking at her daughter with concern. Indeed, the drops of blood very running down Astoria's nose, staining her white satin blouse. "Put your head down, I will bring some yarrow infusion" she said, getting up from her seat.

Astoria withdrew her chair and leaned down, resting her elbows on her thighs. The red drops were striking against the wooden floor, forming a small puddle and Astoria felt blood draining from her head. When Isobel returned to the dining room with a servant, carrying a porcelain pot in one hand and towels in another, Astoria was barely conscious, half-lying on the chair. Her face was deadly pale but the blood was still running down her nose. The deep red stains on her clothes made her look as the victim of a cutler.

"It's more serious than I thought…" murmured Isobel, her own voice sounding semi-conscious. "Owl the Healer, _rapidement_!" she ordered and the servant left obediently, leaving the pot and towels on the chimney.

Isobel leaned over her daughter and tried to raise her from the chair.

"Come on, darling" she whispered and holding her in the waist, Isobel helped her to reach the _chaise longue_ , standing near.

Once she lied down, Astoria lost her conscious almost immediately and any cold compress or smelling salts wouldn't make her rally. Isobel was kneeling down next to her daughter, salty tears streaming down her face.

Perses Greengrass was looking at them from the family portrait, his expression peaceful and impassive as always. These were the moments Isobel hated her husband the most. When his child was suffering and he wasn't there, using business as an excuse when even the household knew that wherever he was, Perses Greengrass was not working but losing the last remains of the family's savings.

* * *

 _The darkness was encircling her and detaching from anything terrestrial. She were substantive, suspended somewhere between Earth and the underground and she felt an inexplicable fear. How terrifying it was to experience infernum in one's lifetime, how vicious…_

* * *

* _Amara Greengrass (1952—1980) Perses Greengrass' first wife and Daphne's mother._


	8. Chapter 6b

_(Irritated because this story is no longer my vision of the pairing. Don't know yet whether I will continue on writing but probably yes, taking under consideration I've already written some part of the next chapter back in September. May the new year be kind to all of you. Thank you for messaging me, I really appreciate it.)_

* * *

When Astoria woke up, it was dusking. She was lying in her bed, covered with a quilt. Her mother was sitting in the armchair, standing next to the bed, observing her with half-closed eyes. She was almost as pale as Astoria and looked very tired.

"Thank Merlin you've woken up" she said with relief, raising up from her seat. She sat on the corner of the bed and touched her daughter's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Astoria nodded almost invisibly and closed her eyes.

"You were given an injection, it should reduce the pain" explained Isobel, stroking Astoria's hair affectionately. "Is your head hurting?" she asked.

"Less" murmured Astoria in a hoarse voice.

"It will pass completely soon" she comforted her. "Tori?" she started after a moment of hesitation. "Have you been taking your potions regularly lately?"

"Yes" replied Astoria simply.

"Your Healer said the hemorrhage of this intensity wouldn't have happened if you had been taking the potions" insisted Isobel.

Astoria frowned and opened her eyes.

"I'm telling the truth" she said. "If you don't believe me, check…"

"I do believe you, darling" ensured her Isobel but her expression revealed she was in two minds. "The matter is, they were working too intensively… Your Healer says it could have been _drugs_ that increased their effect" she explained. "I need you to be honest with me, Tori. Have you been taking _anything_?" she asked, looking straight into her daughter's eyes.

"No" replied Astoria immediately and even though Isobel hoped to hear the denial, she was feeling far from relief and when she spoke again, it seemed she misheard her daughter's response.

"You have been absent-minded lately…" she started, looking blindly at the pattern of the quilt. "I know about you sneaking out at night and not coming back until morning" she continued after a moment of hesitation. Astoria budged but she shushed her and put a hand of her arm. "Walls have ears, Astoria" she reminded her. "Now, tell me, what have you been doing?"

"I was with friends" replied Astoria, trying hard to sound reliable.

"With that boy you dated?" delved into Isobel. Her chin was trembling lightly when she asked "Did he force you to do anything that you didn't want to? Did he…"

"Mom!" interrupted her Astoria, feeling her cheeks crimsoning. "I have no contact with him, not since June" she moaned.

"I need to know what's going on, Astoria" said her mother in a louder voice. "You may be of age but your behavior contradicts it. You could have killed yourself!" cried Isobel and there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Mom…" murmured Astoria in order to calm her mother down but Isobel ignored her.

"Don't you understand you are _everything_ I have, Tori?" she asked, wiping away the first tear to stream down her cheek. "All I want you to do is to take care of your health. Is it so much to ask for?" she asked and Astoria lowered her eyes, unable to withstand her gaze. "I'm your mother, for Merlin's sake! Show me some respect and listen to me, at least once!"

Astoria cried too, nestling up to her mother.

"I'm sorry, mom" she whispered.

"I'm sorry too."

Her voice sounded cold but her embrace tightened and Astoria felt relieved. With her mother's hand stroking her hair, whispering comforting words, it felt almost like the old times accept for now, it was not a bad dream troubling Astoria but a bad reality.

* * *

Due to the sudden aggravation of Astoria's condition, the medical appointment has been postponed to another week but nettle infusions proved to be too little to reinstate the accurate number of red cells in her body in this short time. As the result, when six days following the _accident_ Astoria showed up in St Mungo's, she was still visibly weak and her skin nearly transparent.

"You could do with a coffee, darling, you're pale as a sheet" said Isobel Greengrass, looking at her daughter with concern. Because of the _accident_ ,she has become horribly overprotective and was hardly letting Astoria go to the lavatory by herself, so naturally there was no way she could Apparate herself anywhere alone.

"I'm fine, mom" murmured Astoria for the tenth time but Isobel only raised an eyebrow at her, unconvinced. She arranged her knee-length navy dress and move the indocile strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear.

"I'll go" she decided, regardless her daughter's words. "You need something to stimulate the circulation" she added confidently. "Unless you prefer to pass out again…" she murmured teasingly and Astoria sighed quietly, understanding there was no point countering.

"Fine. Just remember about sugar" she asked before Isobel turned to the exit of the department and disappeared on the stairs.

The corridor was empty accept for one elderly woman in a big purple hat, sitting next to the cabinet, reading _Daily Prophet_. Astoria took a seat opposite and, involuntarily read the headline.

 _The reconstruction of_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ _has come to an end. The school opens in less than a week. Time to pack your trunk, kid!_

The news sounded like a threat, even though she was well accustomed with it. She glanced at the photograph of the castle, beneath the headline. It looked the same as she remembered and for a second Astoria wondered how was it possible. All the towers — including the Ravenclaw tower — were on their places and it seemed the tiles on the roof were made of the same material as the previous ones. Even the weeping willow was standing by the Great Lake, although Astoria remembered how it lied, blasted, half-drowned in the water. She wished the image of the castle aroused in her the feelings that accompanied the first-years like excitement and happiness but then she remembered she had never felt any of these. She hated Hogwarts from the beginning…

"Astoria."

She took her gaze off the newspaper and raised her head at the sound of her name. He seemed very tired, with his skin horribly pale and circles under his eyes too dark but somehow, Draco Malfoy still managed to look handsome, what she would not admit it.

"Draco" she said finally, looking at him from under half-closed eyes.

She noticed he was wearing the same black coat he would have borrowed her once and it made her pout lightly. It has been nearly two weeks since their last encounter but seeing him still aroused in her similar feelings, among others reluctance and anger. They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Draco spoke again.

"You don't look your best" he said.

"Neither do you" replied Astoria bitterly.

Draco smirked under his nose but held himself back from any comment. The silence between them occurred again but — to Astoria's astonishment — instead of leaving, he took a seat next to her. She raised an eyebrow at him but Draco pretended he did not notice.

"I wrote" he said, this time looking at the top of his shoes.

"Yes, you did" she admitted, folding her arms across her chest.

"Is this all you have to say?" he asked, frowning.

"I never read the correspondence sealed with unknown seals" she replied coldly.

Draco snorted and narrowed his lips.

"I waited for you" he said quieter and Astoria wondered if this sudden change was caused by the elderly woman lowering the _Daily Prophet_ and observing them unabashed. Astoria smirked to herself and shook her head in disbelief.

"There is a thin line between curiosity and insolence" she hissed addressing both. She got up from her seat and walked away but it was not before she reached the end of the corridor when Draco's hand clenched on her forearm.

"Don't make scenes" he told her, sounding upset.

"Let go of me."

When he did, she massaged her forearm demonstratively but did not succeed in making him feel the need to apologize. Draco observed her with a nearly amused expression.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"Are you?" she asked back.

Draco sighed and opened his mouth to answer when the door to the cabinet opened and some surname was called out. The elderly woman moved away _Daily Prophet_ and got up from her seat. Entering the cabinet, she glanced at them with curiosity one last time.

The door closed and they remained alone on the corridor. Astoria breathed out heavily before returning to her seat. She could hear Draco's steps right behind her and could not decide whether she felt flattered or uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she turned to face him but then, suddenly she felt weak at the knees.

Draco pulled his hands out to hold her but she refused his help and managed to sit down by herself. She breathed again, cursing herself in mind and massaged her temple. Draco looked at her with concern and put his hand on her arm.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked.

"Well enough to have come here…" she murmured with a mocking smile under her nose. "Can you please stop leaning on me?" she added bitterly.

Draco's face twisted into a grimace as he took his hand away, sighing. He stood in front of her for another minute without a word and Astoria wondered, why would not he just leave. When she raised her eyes on him, he was just about to speak.

"Does your state have anything to do with… me?" he asked, feeling visibly uncomfortable to her biggest surprise.

Astoria observed him for a moment and only when she understood what he had on mind, her cheeks went crimson. She wrinkled her nose, feeling resentful by such far lesson learnt. With every second passed, she felt more outraged and hoped the blushes on her face are not visible through the powder.

"Definitely no" she murmured through clenched teeth, her voice as cold as ice.

Draco nodded slowly. He looked lost and it seemed he did not know how to continue the conversation. He lowered his head and fixed his eyes on his hands, what made him appear anxious, abashed even.

"I had a bad day, _then_ " he said and brushed his white blonde hair off his forehead.

Astoria clenched her teeth harder, wishing he had passed through the corridor without noticing her. In a moment, long days of trying to erase the memories of their encounters from her head had come to naught.

"I know" she replied in an indifferent tone after a longer pause. "I read the _Prophet_ " she added, remembering the night after their fight when she came home in tears and noticed the familiar face on the cover of the _Evening Prophet_ , lying on the coffee table in the parlor. _Not so fallen from grace?_ started the article and therefore Astoria knew that Draco's father had been acquitted on all counts. "My most sincere condolences."

Draco sighed with irritation.

"Give it a miss" he murmured and was replied with a quiet snort. "Listen…" he started. Astoria raised her eyes on him again, looking hesitant. "I want… I would like to" he corrected himself. She raised an eyebrow lightly. "I would like to talk to you."

"We are talking" she reminded him with contemptuous smile, hoping he would not notice how her voice was shaking.

"I meant, in privacy" he replied, rolling his eyes. He seemed to be too concerned about his own situation to mind Astoria's growing anxiety and this time, she was grateful for it.

"I doubt there is anything we could talk about _in privacy_ " she said, looking at the door. "Now, could you leave, please? My mother is here and I wouldn't like her to see me in your company" she continued slowly, hearing the patter of Isobel's heels yet before seeing her herself.

Draco sent Astoria a startled expression and only when he followed her gaze, he understood her point. The resemblance between Astoria and her mother was undeniable and as Isobel Greengrass was approaching them, Draco could see more and more common features.

Isobel stopped and looked hesitantly at Draco, who bowed down lightly. She was holding a coffee cup in her hands and intended to say something but he spoke before she managed to open her mouth.

"I must say it's a pleasure to be able to congratulate you on your older daughter's wedding personally, Mrs Greengrass" he said politely. Isobel's expression softened slightly and Astoria could swear she raised the corner of her mouth in a half-smile even.

"Thank you" she replied and almost immediately moved her gaze onto her daughter. The smile went off her face and was replaced with a question but Astoria ignored it, pretending she did not notice.

"Well, I won't be taking you more time" said Draco, interrupting this mute conversation. "Once again, congratulations, Mrs Greengrass" he added and bowed down in front of Isobel again before walking away.

Astoria looked at his back for a moment and let her mother hand her the porcelain cup with steaming liquid inside.

"What did Malfoy's son want from you?" she asked, following her daughter's gaze.

"Same as you" replied Astoria shortly. "Since when does the hospital buffet offer coffee in porcelain cups?" she asked, hoping to change the topic.

"Since I asked this woman for it" said Isobel in a lively tone. "Can you imagine, at first she offered me a _paper_ cup?" she asked with a disgusted expression. "I don't like where this world is going… Drinking from _paper_? Is it an outcome of this whole _recycling_ I read about?" she looked truly moved and it made Astoria smile unwillingly, from under the coffee cup. It gave her pleasure to see her mother bothering about something else than her family for once.

"And to think the Americans are responsible for this… _invention_ " continued Isobel, shaking her head slowly, demonstrating her disfavor. "If only your grandfather would see it…" she sighed heavily and it was one of very few times she would mention her father who passed away three months before Astoria was born.

Isobel seemed to be lost in thought but somewhere between remembering her father and her carefree childhood spent on the countryside in Virginia, she reminded herself of the circumstances that accompanied her return to her daughter. Suddenly, her face stiffened and she looked at Astoria suspiciously.

"Please remind me, how do you know the Malfoy's boy?"

"He can be hardly called a _boy_ …" murmured Astoria, taking another sip of coffee. "Through Daphne, of course" she added indifferently, seeing the hesitant expression on her mother's face.

Isobel nodded and opened her mouth to ask another question when the door from the Healer's cabinet opened and the man's voice called out:

"Greengrass, Astoria."

"Should I come with you?" asked Isobel, taking the half-filled coffee cup from her daughter's hands.

"I'm fine" replied Astoria and got up from her seat.

Entering the Healer's cabinet, she felt her mother's gaze fixed on her back.

* * *

 _September 1st 1999_

September 1999 was somehow extraordinary with the platform nine and three quarters filled mainly with eleven and twelve year olds, what left the older students feeling somehow out of place. The reason for this kindergarten atmosphere over King's Cross was, there were two classes of children to start school this September as the previous year it was impossible, due to the reconstruction of the castle. The amount of new students was not, however beyond the possibilities of the institution as most of the sever years refused to come back after the events of May 1998. Some finished their education abroad, others decided to prepare for the NEWTs on their own, the rest believed they did not need a paper to start the adult life. At all events, the number of new students aligned with the lack in older classes and seemingly, everything was the same.

It was nearly the time but some of the students were still wandering around, saying goodbye to their parents or simply chatting with their friends. Among these people were two girls, around sixteen year old each. They looked alike but it was rather due to the newest trends than to them being related. Pastel sweaters and the hair tied in buns on the top of their heads made them look like clones, the only difference being, one girl was blonde and the other, brunette. They were both visibly excited but the reason was not school, of course.

"It must have been Tracey Davis" insisted the blonde girl.

"I doubt it, there are many dark haired girls in here" replied the brunette. "Besides, why would she even come back? As far as I remember she hardly passed her OWLs" she added with disdain in her voice.

"The rumor has it, her father lost a lot of money during the trials. Tracey's mother's brother was one of _them_ " she said in a quieter tone. "I don't remember his surname but he ended up in Azkaban anyway. Now, Tracey has no money so it is likely she won't get married" explained the blonde in a confident tone, making herself sound as an expert in the field.

The brunette frowned.

"You think she came back to find a husband?" she asked.

"All of _these_ girls do it!" said the blonde. "Can you see Daphne Greengrass anywhere?" she asked without intention to hear any response and continued: "No! And why? Because she made Theo Nott put the ring on her finger!"

"So it's truth? They really got married?"

"Yes! This is how _these_ families function. Anyway, Baby G is here" she added with a false smile, knowing well her news would cause her friend's interest.

Indeed, the brunette opened her eyes wider.

"You aren't serious" she replied. "What a lack of self preservation. If I were her, I would never come back!"

"Me neither. She should have stayed wherever she has gone last year and never come back."

The brunette nodded to show her support of the other girl's point of view. They stayed in silence for a moment when the blonde spoke again:

"I think there's no point standing here, let's get in" she ordered and they approached the train to disappear inside seconds later.

Astoria Greengrass, who was looking at the two for a longer moment through the steamy window, moved herself away from the glassy surface. She was sitting in an empty compartment, thinking of any rational reason why she did not oppose her father, when he decided she would continue her education in Hogwarts, but nothing was coming to her mind.

Clearly, she was an intruder, who could not count on anybody's favor. One of _the cursed children_ as it has become customary to call the offspring whose families' implication with defrauds and other affairs — mainly concerning taking actions against the Muggle-borns' presence in the magical government — were revealed soon after the fall of the Dark Lord. Although her father was not personally involved in any bribery, many of their family's friends were accused of participating in such affairs and so, soon the public opinion included the Greengrass surname to the list of _fallen from grace_.

But it was not the only reason why Astoria earned herself the name of a _cursed child_. Regardless her family situation, she has elaborated herself a reputation of a person lacking moral fibre during her last year in Hogwarts. She was perfectly aware that for the sake of what she had done in the past, she could count on no sympathy from the other students. Nobody cared how gravely all these events have affected her psyche; how she cried herself to sleep, remembering what she did during the day and how she still could not look in the mirror without disgust months after the war has ended.

The memories of the year before were still alive in her mind and provoked so many disturbing thoughts, Astoria doubted she could make it through a year in Hogwarts.

She was wiping away a single tear streaming down her cheek, when she heard the door to her compartment opening.

"Is it… Oh… Hello, Tori."

Terry Boot seemed as astonished as she herself but his expression disclosed he was also feeling abashed and it made Astoria feel a little bit more confident. She looked down at her lap and pulled down the school skirt.

"Hi" she replied in an indifferent tone.

He stood one foot in the compartment, unsure what to do, when the conductor of the train came.

"Get in, boy. We're leaving" he said in an imperative voice, pushing Terry into the compartment.

With a shadow of a blush on his face, Terry sat down in front of Astoria, giving her an apologetic smile. When she remained passive, he looked around himself and his attention was immediately draught by the book, lying on the seat next to her. Suddenly, his face brightened with a smile.

"Stendhal, is it the same I gave you?" he asked, looking visibly more cheerful. He leaned over and took the book. He riffled it, the smile not leaving his face. "Of course it is" he answered himself. "I remember this stain" he said, moving the book up so she could see it.

Astoria felt a blush covering her face.

"I leaned to kiss you and the glass with pumpkin juice fell over…" he continued, to her displeasure. He moved his head up, expecting she would be smiling too at this memory, but she was not.

The hostility in her eyes made Terry lose all his humor.

"I went too far, sorry" he murmured, putting the book back onto the empty seat. "It's just…" he started with a quiet sigh, unsure if he should speak his mind. "I'm _really_ happy to see you."

Astoria was already opening her mouth to answer him, when a vicious thought crossed her mind.

"I guess you should address someone else with these words" she replied carefully, looking at him suspiciously. Terry moved his head up at the sound of her voice.

"I know what you have on mind but I ended it" he assured her. "It was a mistake. Whenever I was with her, I was thinking about you" he added and Astoria felt relieved.

She concentrated and tried to make herself look hesitating.

"What do you expect me to say?" she asked.

"Anything that could give me hope" he replied in a serious tone. Astoria bit her lip, thinking whether the game was worth the candle.

There was no doubt, she needed some ally and Terry Boot was a good material for one. Having been the Prefect of their house, he had influence and respect, something she could not count on in the present circumstances.

It felt as a betrayal of herself but she knew there was no other way she could survive this year, considered an enemy by the whole school. Her actions contradicted completely the words she addressed him back in June, when they broke up but it seemed Terry has already forgotten about everything what happened back then. With heavy heart, Astoria replied quietly:

"We all make mistakes. What's important is to learn to forgive each other."

His chocolate brown eyes were shining from happiness but she was close to fainting. It has been a while since she felt such disgust towards herself. She put her hand into the pocket of her skirt and felt the creased paper under her fingers; she could swear it burnt her skin.

* * *

 _18th August_

 _I only wanted you to know I did not mean any of the things I told you the other day. If you don't bear a grudge against me, we shall meet on Wednesday, as always._

 _D. M._

 _END OF PART ONE_


	9. Chapter 7

_(If anyone's still there, I just wanted to say I will update quite regularly during summer. It has been a whole year since I published the first chapter, time flies... Next chapters will consider the events of 1999. And sorry for making Astoria a complete hysteric, but I can't help giving my characters some of my own features.)_

* * *

 _PART TWO_

 _2006_

Astoria Malfoy was standing by the window of her parlor, looking blindly at the peacocks strolling through the garden regardless the snow. It took her a moment to notice the birds as their white feathers merged with the white fluff that was covering the ground.

Although she never liked the birds — their eyes resembling too far the expression of their main owner and the sounds they would make causing her migraine — Astoria felt some kind of compassion towards them as this winter was the coldest in many years. She sighed heavily and turned back to the window, remembering the birds were accustomed to low temperatures and her lack of involvement into improving their living conditions was not convicting her to an eternal condemn. Unlike other actions she has taken lately.

 _The Kreutzer Sonata_ was lying on the couch, where Astoria would have spent the whole morning, reading each page for at least three times, unable to concentrate on the reading. According to a convention two married people were supposed to stay together and perhaps it was the reason for love turning into hatred so often. Marriage was, undeniably, a kind of enslavement if taking under consideration Tolstoy's remarks about love being an exclusive preference for one person that faded rapidly. It was logical nobody wanted to spend their life stuck in a heartless relationship so it seemed a rational resolution to skip the meaningless exchange of vows that the institution of marriage was and stay in an informal relationship until the exclusive preference passed.

However, Draco did proposed. It was his own decision, made without his parents' knowledge, not to mention — without their approval. Months after they wedded Astoria was still impressed by this act of bravery of his and was catching herself looking at the rings, both engagement and wedding one with disbelief and childish joy.

Now, these carefree feelings were all gone, replaced with constant conjectures that were slowly bringing Astoria to losing her mind. She observed her wedding band in the winter sun, letting the most disturbing thoughts bother her. What if Draco proposed to her only to spite his parents? What if marriage was nothing but a formality to him while she was overflown with both excitement and agitation knowing she would become his wife? And finally, what if her maternal instinct was in fact the subconscious attempt to keep Draco near, because deep down she was aware he had already fallen out of love with her?

" _Regarde-toi !_ "

Astoria whispered to herself with irritation. She took a deep breath and massaged her temples.

The more time passed, the more unfounded thoughts were coming to her mind. Her husband's absence was making Astoria feel insecure and miserable. Having no idea how long he was planning to delay his return to the manor was only adding a pinch of insanity to the blend of emotions she was experiencing and that was only the tip of an iceberg, considering her raging hormones.

Astoria no longer knew whether the reason of her crying was guilt followed by the pangs of conscience that were haunting her non-stop since the argument with her husband or pregnancy itself, causing the hormonal glitch in her body. At all events, she found herself wiping away the tears from her reddened cheeks again as she eventually sat down on the couch, throwing the book onto the floor with anger.

Apart from guilt and repentance Astoria could not deny there was exasperation sprouting inside her. She knew it was her to take the blame but as she was raised in the belief that pride was the most valuable virtue, she could not help but put the blame on her husband as well. She considered his restraint from having a baby the effect of the senseless stubbornness, his objective being, proving himself (rather than her) he was all altruistic and selfless. Ironically, this need was making him awfully selfish and remembering it was only inciting in Astoria the feelings of bitterness and resentment.

They were both guilty. Him, for putting his need of full self-acceptance above the well-being of his family and her, for presenting him with a _fait accompli_ rather than trying to persuade him to have a baby first.

Astoria clenched her teeth, holding back the tears of helplessness. She could not accept her guilt because, deciding to cut off her contraceptive potion, she was sure Draco wanted to become a father. She knew there were some _affaires_ stopping him from telling her about it, but he did craved it. She could not have been mistaken. She could not. But what if she was?

Another tear streamed down her cheek but this time Astoria let it sink into the material of her blouse. This thought was the most disturbing. In fact, it was the major reason of her misery. To think Draco _really_ did not want to have a baby was making Astoria deeply anxious especially that it was no longer theoretical. What is more, it was supposed to be born in seven months. An innocent human being, who deserved to be brought up in a loving family, knowing it was wanted.

 _Wanted_. Astoria was especially sensitive in the matter, knowing from autopsy, how painful it was for a child to be aware of not being wanted by one of its parents and she could not stand to think her own baby would experience the same fate. The thought alone made her feel nausea when she remembered her attempts to win Perses Greengrass' favor — from exhausting herself to get high grades in class to learning by heart each one of her grandfather's violin concertos. Sadly, it did not matter how good her results were as long as she was a girl and not the heir that her father was expecting. Involuntarily, Astoria imagined her husband being the kind of father Perses Greengrass was to her — rigorous, demanding and never fully content. All blood drained from her face as Astoria remembered her conservative breeding.

"Never again" she whispered to herself, putting both hands on her nearly flat belly.

While she was trying to calm herself down, she heard some voices on the other side of the door. Concerned, she got up from the couch and automatically arranged her mid-length pleated skirt. The steps on the old wooden floor were becoming louder and although it crossed Astoria's mind to whom they belonged, she restrained herself from any further presumptions. She stood motionless until the door opened and she saw the familiar silhouette.

"I haven't got any letter" she said in an indifferent voice, scrutinizing her husband.

Draco smirked almost invisibly at her words but given his appearance, including nearly transparent skin and dark shadows under his eyes, he was looking far from usually if not simply miserable. He was wearing the same clothes as on the day he had left the house, now wrinkled and outworn, and involuntarily Astoria thought he should pay more attention to the household charms.

"I haven't sent any" he replied simply, noticing the title thrown onto the floor. He frown slightly. Astoria followed his gaze and murmured a charm that lifted the book from the ground and put it back on the couch.

"I've put fresh shirts in the wardrobe" she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that occurred between them. "On the left, next to…" she broke, when she realized how much out of line were her words. "Well, you know yourself" she sighed, looking down at the top of her heels.

Draco's gaze smoothed as he saw her embarrassment.

"Tori…" he murmured with a small sigh.

Astoria raised her gaze immediately and looked at him with question. Slowly, Draco approached her and embraced her lightly. Through the fine material of her blouse Astoria could feel the chill of his hands, wrapped around her waist and although she was getting goose bumps, obediently she wrapped her arms around his neck and lied her head on his chest. Draco's embrace tightened but his body seemed to relax a little.

"I promised myself long time ago" he started, not letting go of her "that anything would scare me anymore, ever."

Astoria shivered lightly as his voice turned into a harsh whisper.

"I needed to earn self respect" he continued. "Loneliness appeared to me as the guarantee of sanity…" his tone was growing somehow darker with every word. "In fact, loners are the most dangerous, their waywardness coming from the awareness of having no one. No need to subordinate, no compromises, unlimited freedom."

"Draco, I know this story" Astoria interrupted him quietly, her voice sounding tired, but he ignored her.

"I was in the middle of self distracting when you came" he carried on, sounding exasperated when mentioning her. "You made me dependent on yourself so easily…" he said, caressing Astoria's back lazily. "And then told me you will leave eventually."

Astoria felt her heart skipped a beat.

"Draco, please stop" she whispered but this time he also seemed not to hear her words.

"I don't recall feeling this scared ever before in my life, Astoria" he said, sounding terribly serious. "From that day I decided to devote my every minute to finding the cure…"

"I know" she moaned between his words, hiding her face in his chest.

"…and I still do, I made progress…"

"I know" she repeated.

"…but there you are, acting against yourself as if you weren't aware of the consequences."

"Stop it!" she hissed, releasing herself from his embrace.

Draco observed her, his eyes filled with nothing but sadness.

"I've never been brave, Tori" he said in a softer tone. "Don't expect me to become such all of the sudden because it won't happen" he insisted.

"Me neither" replied Astoria honestly. "I've never been brave."

Draco sent her a fake smile as the only reply. They stood in silence for a few seconds before he decided to speak again.

"I will be a disappointment of a father, Astoria" he said straight out.

Anxiety suddenly disappeared from his wife's face and was replaced with a ready to battle look as she shook her head in disagree, pouting as befitted her.

"No" she said with an astonishing confidence. "In case you haven't noticed, you are the most caring and protective husband" she carried on, making Draco wonder if it was actually possible for her to see him this way. "You look after me as if _I_ was a child. It irritates me at times but it also makes me feel safe. You're a fool to think you will be any different with the baby."

 _Will_ be, he repeated in mind and felt a cold shiver running through his back.

"You will be an amazing dad" she added and although she sounded confident saying it, Draco wondered whether she pulled that card as her final attempt to win his favor.

But as he listened to her, one particular word has stuck in his head. _Dad_? A fine line formed on his forehead. Dad. Unlike _father_ , the sound of _dad_ had no connotations. It was a complete _tabula rasa_. _Dad, dad, dad_ he repeated in mind but still could not recall any memories involving this particular word. At first he thought it was due to Astoria's voice that it sounded so soft but as he carried on repeating the syllable in his mind, he understood it sounded the same pronounced by him and it took him out of himself.

"What if the baby hates me?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.

Astoria rolled eyes on him.

"The baby will adore you" she insisted. "Just like I do."

"You're not _that_ hard to love, Draco" she added after a moment, approaching him.

She caressed her husband's cheek fondly, looking at him from half-closed eyes not sure of his reaction to that tenderness. She tried her best to soothe him but despite Draco's gaze slowly softening under her touch, a shadow of disappointment was still showing in his eyes and it was giving Astoria nearly physical pain.

"You've been crying?" he asked, noticing grayish traces of mascara on her cheeks.

Astoria took her hand instantly and rubbed the skin. Draco shook his head at her helplessness and wiped the stains with his thumb. When he moved his gaze back to face her, his wife's eyes were already filled with new tears and her chin started to shiver dangerously.

"Tori…" he started, a single wrinkle appearing on his forehead. "Astoria, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to put an arm around her neck. But Astoria stepped away and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back the tears.

"I'm being pathetic, am I not?" she asked with a hysteric laugh that was followed by the outburst of crying. "Trying to convince you, especially _now_ … Merlin sake, I destroyed this marriage" she laughed through tears, arranging her hair nervously. "I destroyed _our_ marriage…"

"Calm down" ordered Draco in a low tone. His fist was clenching but he tried his best to maintain composure however Astoria seemed not to notice his inner struggle.

"You don't deny…" she whispered, shaking her head helplessly. "You…"

"I told you to calm down!" Draco hissed, slowly losing his temper what his wife ignored completely.

"The reason you stayed… is because you want to act like an adult" she started, sounding half conscious. "Clean the mess I've made… You hate me!" she cried, wiping away the tears. "You hate me because I let you down. But you won't admit it…" she said shaking her head as if she wanted to emphasize her words. "All because you feel _responsible_ for me!"

"And what the fuck is wrong with it?" he cried, interrupting her. "Me feeling responsible for you? Me acting mature? What the fuck elsedo you expect me to do?"

"I don't know!"

Draco hated her for acting this way but he hated himself even more for letting her fall onto her knees, crying with her face hidden in her hands. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down.

Astoria had hysterical tendencies that came from her overanalyzing. She claimed it was the outcome of her upbringing in a permanent doubt whether she met her father's expectations or not. Despite all the time that had passed, her insecurities were still activating once in a while, mainly during stressful situations and their argument was a perfect example of it.

"It should not be this way…" she murmured to herself, sobbing. "It should not be this way…"

"No, it shouldn't" confirmed Draco. "Starting from the part where you forgot to tell me you wanted children" he added, sounding much more severe than he intended to.

Astoria raised her head and moved the hair away from her face.

"Would you have married me if you knew I did?" she asked, sending him a defiant look.

Draco could feel the anger increasing in him. She had no right to look at him this way. She was not in a position to make _him_ feel guilty of anything. Especially not of his reluctance to having children.

"Where is this even going?" he asked, approaching her. He picked Astoria up from the ground in a surprisingly gentler way that she had expected him to and seated her on the couch.

"Look at yourself" he muttered. "You're a complete mess" he said even though he knew it would hurt her. "As always when things go differently than you expected them to" he added then, looking at her with a mix of dissatisfaction and disappointment.

Given no response, he turned to the door. Standing on the doorstep, he spoke:

"And, by the way, I told my parents."

Instantly, Astoria moved her head up to look at him but Draco was already on the corridor. Left alone, she remained on the couch, where he seated her and thought about what has just happened. Slowly, the feeling of guilt overwhelmed her again.

* * *

"Do you hate me?"

She was leaning against the door frame with her eyes fixed on the floor as if she was ashamed to look at him. Dark brown curls were covering her face almost completely, making her look pitiful and somewhere deep inside, Draco wanted nothing but to hold her.

They were in their bedroom, where Astoria would followed him when he had left the parlor. Draco was standing by the bed, dressing himself up after a shower, trying to avoid looking at his wife as her appearance was making him feel sorry for her, what he believed should be his last feeling for her in the current situation.

"No, I don't hate you" he replied, trying to focus on buttoning one of his trademark black long-sleeved shirts that covered bleached Dark Mark on his left forearm.

"I lose my mind when you're gone" she murmured, her eyes still down.

"Unusual way to express feelings, I must say…"

Astoria sighed quietly.

"Why would you tell them?" she asked after a moment of silence, raising her head.

For a fracture of a second their gazes met and Draco saw sparks of hope shining in her emerald green eyes. Once again he thought the baby should get the eye color from its mother before reminding himself he was not supposed to look at her.

"I'm afraid I don't know what are you talking about" he replied coldly, frowning as if to emphasize his words.

"Your parents" said Astoria instantly, not sounding the tease in her husband's voice. "Why would you tell your parents that I'm pregnant?" she asked, entering the room finally. There were several dozen inches separating them but Draco could swear he felt her breath on his neck.

"Wasn't it a proper thing to do?" he replied with a question. "You don't plan to inform yours?" he added with a memory of sarcasm in his voice.

There was no need for him to glance at her as he could _feel_ her blushing.

"Give it a miss" hissed Astoria to his biggest surprise; he did not expect any act of irritation from her at this point of the conversation. "If you don't want the baby, then why would you tell them yourself?" she asked, sounding resentful rather than curious, as if she regretted he had visited his parents without her.

"I only wanted to see my father's expression. I thought it would amuse me."

Her ironic laugh filled the room for a moment but she herself did not seem amused. Draco sighed heavily at his wife's concerned expression and pulled one hand into her direction.

"Come to me" he ordered, knowing he had already lost.

Astoria approached him obediently, a suspicious look not leaving her face.

"You look absolutely hideous" said Draco, brushing her cheek with his thumb to wipe away the remains of tears. "Have you been sleeping at all?" he asked, observing her nearly transparent skin that was contrasting with dark circles under Astoria's eyes.

"I had nightmares" she murmured with reproach. "You yourself don't look much better."

Draco smirked involuntarily and shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"What kind of nightmares?" he asked, ignoring Astoria's comment on his appearance.

"You, leaving" she replied with her eyes down. "Listen… Draco, I thought you didn't want children because of me" she started with a shaky voice. "I never thought that you really…"

"That's enough" he interrupted her, sounding upset. Astoria looked at him with both astonishment and dread. "I'm tired of this. When does your Healer see his patients?" he asked, ignoring his wife's uneasy expression fixed on him.

"But you said we will keep…" she started, automatically placing her hands on her nearly visible belly.

"Merlin sake, Astoria!" cried Draco so loud she stepped away from him. "I need to meet with him myself to talk about your medicines" he explained, sounding tired.

He saw Astoria's body relaxing immediately.

"Monday and Thursday mornings but Draco, the potions…"

"Tori, please" he moaned. "How about you trust me for once? I'm not a fool, I know your potions cannot affect the baby" he said, looking resentful. He did the buttons of his left sleeve in silence as she played with the wedding band on her finger, light blush covering her cheeks.

"I never said you were a fool" she murmured.

"I dispose of common sense" added Draco harshly, too busy with his clothing to look at her.

"I know, I'm sorry."

Draco sighed loudly, unsuccessfully trying to do the buttons of the other sleeve. Astoria approached him and helped him without a word. When she tried to step away, Draco caught her wrist. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't be" he said finally. "Sorry, I mean. I'm being too hard on you" he admitted.

"I'm being touchy lately" she replied with a timid smile.

"You're pregnant after all."

"After all" Astoria repeated, smile immediately disappearing from her face. "Where are you going?" she asked, when Draco let go of her hand and turned to the door.

"I have some work to do, starting from owling the idiot who let you cut off your potions" he said, avoiding her gaze.

"How about I ask the household to prepare us some lunch earlier today? You must be hungry" she asked in a hopeless try to attract her husband's attention and stop him from leaving her alone again.

"To be honest I'm not" she heard his reserved tone. "I'll be in my study."

"Draco, please!" she cried after him.

He turned back, sending her a confused look. He approached her once again and embraced her tightly. Astoria put her both arms around his neck but before she managed to rest her head against his chest — as she would always do — Draco pulled off.

"It has nothing to do with you. I'm just not hungry" he explained, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Then he stepped away from her and left the room in silence. Astoria sat down on the bed and played with her wedding band again. She felt trapped, suspended between feelings of sadness that were too big not to be affected by them and too small to cry because of them at the same time.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when the door opened and Draco entered his and Astoria's bedroom. The room was filled with moonlight shining in between the curtains drown carelessly. His wife was already sleeping, curled on her side of the bed. It seemed this time her sleep was untroubled by any nightmares. Draco knelt down by her side and observed her chest rising as she breathed in the air. He moved a strand of hair behind Astoria's ear and caressed her cheek.

"I love you" he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Astoria moved in her sleep, a smile gracing her lips. It was the first time in days that Draco saw her smiling and it was not until this moment that he understood how much he missed the look.

"I will go to hell and back but I'll find a way."


	10. Chapter 8

_Friendly reminder I'm a foreigner hence the eventual mistakes. Thank each one of you for reading, sending much love._

* * *

 _December 1999_

There were no rational reasons for her to even consider leaving her boyfriend's party in order to meet with a former flame but as she Apparated to the least appropriate for a lady of her position part of London, Astoria Greengrass had long forgotten about rational thinking.

Her body was trembling nowise from the cold as she headed to her destination, her head filled with made up finales of the upcoming night that all featured her feeling _relieved_. In fact she was seeking nothing but relief. It could be accompanied by physical sensations but she could not care less for any of them. However she was not naive and took under consideration a necessity to seduce her target, hence the garter belt around her waist.

Astoria took a deep breath before turning into the shadiest of streets, filled with undisturbed silence. She came up to the door and tapped on it with her wand. Within seconds it grew two times bigger and a huge silver latch appeared. _Alohomora_ Astoria murmured, pointing her unicorn hair cored walnut wand at the door that stood open instantly.

The pub was bathed in the smoke, making one's eye water and the temperature high enough to make Astoria undo her knee-length woolen coat the minute she entered the place. There was quite a crowd inside, with all of the tables being taken however Astoria could not recognize anybody, all faces looking similar in a tense air.

"Look who has come again!" she heard a male's voice in front of her. A golden watch on a bracelet was sticking out the pocket of his jacket, making Blaise Zabini look like a member of a Muggle gang but he seemed to be too content with himself to notice.

"Seeing somebody?" he asked with a smirk, stopping his gaze on Astoria's legs, thighs to be precise. "Or maybe _looking for_ somebody?" he added, giving her an evocative look to which she replied with a frown.

Chances were men talked but Astoria chose to believe they did not, knowing it would save her eventual embarrassment or uneasiness. She cleared her throat, feeling the smoke penetrating her lungs with every breath she took. The bitterness of snuff annoyed her palate, making her voice hoarse.

"I was around so I decided to step by."

"Surely" laughed Blaise, visibly amused.

Astoria ignored him and continued watching in vain for a sign of _his_ presence in the local, however without success. A sudden thought struck her she was foolish. To believe he was still coming over. To assume he maintained the old habit and was spending here each Wednesday evening.

"You know, it isn't safe to _step by_ here alone when you're a beautiful woman" said Blaise with intention to flirt but Astoria barely heard his words.

What was her plan again? To get with him regardless their acquaintance being finished? To think he would let into oblivion her unfounded silence followed by sudden disappearance and let instincts take control? How much of a fool she was putting on her undergarment to suit _his_ taste? Fantasizing about him tearing it off her in the least appropriate of places?

A loud sigh brought her back to reality.

"You do look gorgeous, Astoria but if you came to see who I think you did," he started with a smirk "then I must tell you he's busy…"

Astoria opened her mouth to deny but Blaise was no longer focused on her, looking with amusement at the other corner of the pub. Involuntarily, Astoria followed his gaze and immediately understood what he meant saying _he_ was busy. Her cheeks reddened and she felt a sudden urge to take off her coat as she observed Draco Malfoy walking out from the cellar with a dark-haired woman, leaning on his arm, murmuring something into his ear with a chuckle. Astoria watched as he seated his companion on a bar stool and ordered a drink for her. _Could it be fire whiskey?_ she thought and an ironic smile graced her lips as the mysterious woman raised her glass filled with liquor in the color of honey.

"How about I get _you_ a drink?" asked Blaise.

Astoria moved her gaze onto him, surprised he was still standing next to her.

"I think I had enough today" she replied, fixing her eyes back on Draco whose hand was now resting on the woman's knee and moving up casually.

Astoria's breath became heavier as she imagined being on her place. She wondered whether _she_ felt the same burning when his fingers tightened on her thigh. If jealousy had a taste it would be fire whiskey and snuff, his breath on her neck causing her to shiver but never leading to fulfillment.

"Then come on 31st, we will have a glass of something stronger together" continued Blaise, untroubled by Astoria's lack of involvement in the conversation.

She nodded automatically, observing _his_ every move. How he knocked back another whiskey and listened with mild interest to his date talking, her cheeks reddened from emotion. With a little smirk, Astoria wondered whether she was worth being devoted so much attention. Clearly, Draco's only intention was to take advantage of her but still dedicating the whole evening to a scatterbrain seemed a waste of time.

Focused on analyzing the character of their relationship, Astoria did not notice Dracowas observing her for a longer moment, ignoring the woman on his side who was desperately trying to attract his attention.

Their eyes met and suddenly, Astoria felt the overwhelming agitation. There was something strange in his look, something she had not predicted — anger. She saw him getting up from his seat and putting on the coat, his eyes never leaving hers. He then started approaching her and that was the moment sense of self-preservation started showing and Astoria went past Blaise and stormed off the pub — or at least tried to for the moment she pushed the massive door, she felt _his_ hand wrapping around her wrist firmly. She hissed with pain, unsuccessfully trying to release herself but Draco seemed unmoved, crushing her bones in his grip.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, narrowing eyes at her.

"You're breaking my hand" she strangled.

Draco cursed under his nose but let go of her.

"I asked you a question" he said in a low voice that gave Astoria goose bumps.

"Just wanted to tell you I don't bear a grunge" she murmured.

This was the first time she ever heard him laughing but, ironically, it scared her more than when he was shouting at her. There was something inhuman in his laugh, something wild and ruthless, and his eyes were filled with mockery.

"You like to keep people waiting" he said, smirking.

A blush covered Astoria's cheeks but she hoped he would not see in the dark.

"I had no possibility to come earlier" she replied, avoiding his gaze.

"What kept you so busy?"

Astoria ignored the question, wrapping the coat around her body.

The night was chilly and standing on the street without a move she started to regret leaving the pub out of hand. Now she was chattering from both cold and fear for Draco looked as if he was planning on stabbing her and with his every glare Astoria was growing more and more convinced her assumption was correct.

"Not too communicative today, are you?" he asked, lighting up a cigarette with his wand. It seemed he was perfectly comfortable with her freezing as he continued his talk, observing her carefully. "I always favored winter over other seasons. I noticed the cold has some sobering quality on me. I happen to think more rationally when my brain freezes. How about you?"

Astoria clenched her teeth.

"Someone's being mousy, huh?" he grumbled. "But your attire contradicts it."

Draco took another drag on his cigarette and took a moment to inhale the smoke in his lungs.

"Taking under consideration your timing _and_ the dress, you must have skipped another family occasion in order to screw some wizard. Old habits die hard, Greengrass?"

All blood drained from her face as Astoria cried:

"Don't you dare speak to me like this!"

Draco raised an eyebrow, unbothered by her outburst.

"So you do understand English, good…" he murmured, throwing away the cigarette butt. "How about we go back inside? If you apply yourself, you still have a chance to leave with Zabini tonight" he said with an undeniable intention to upset her.

"You're an insolent _bastard_!" she hissed, glaring at him.

"Am I, Astoria?" he asked with a mocking smile.

Her name never sounded so good as on his lips, it crossed her mind but immediately she felt ashamed of the thought.

"I came to make peace" she said slowly, trying to sound calm.

"Honestly, I've already forgotten about your existence" replied Draco, pulling out the silver cigarette case with the Malfoys arms from his pocket and offering her one. She took it and they smoked in silence for another minute or two.

"You must have had some purpose" started Astoria, taking the last drag before throwing the cigarette butt away. "Following me here…"

Draco smirked before letting the smoke out.

"I had none. Words of wisdom, if you don't have any expectations, then you won't be disappointed" he said and took one last drag. "What's that face?"

Astoria turned her back on him to hide her distress.

"You were different… in summer" she said quietly. "I thought…" she started but was rudely interrupted with a laugh, overflowed with mockery.

Draco wrapped his hand around her waist and turned her back so she had to face him. They were standing so close to each other Astoria could smell his cologne.

"Trying to play upon my heartstrings?" he asked, rubbing her back lazily. "What a cunning _snake_ you are…" he murmured with a smirk, emphasizing each word. Astoria rolled her eyes on him at the comparison. For a moment she wondered if it was possible he knew the truth about her sorting at Hogwarts but decided it made no further sense.

"No, I…"

"If you wanted me to buy you a drink, you could have said it first off."

It seemed his anger was diminishing with every cigarette smoked as his hand was still on her back as he spoke and his mouth dangerously close to her face.

"I can afford my own drinks" she replied, gently pushing him away.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her as he said:

"We both know drink is only an excuse."

Astoria smiled to herself as she hid her hands in the pockets of her coat.

"What about your date?" she asked nonchalantly.

For a fracture of a second there was real astonishment in his eyes but it was quickly replaced with an amused expression as he murmured:

"So you came to get with _me_ " he murmured, nodding as he took out the cigarette case again and played with it in his hands. "I'm honored" he added, defiant expression never leaving his face.

"Shut off!"

She cried without thinking much. Pride was the best developed feature of every woman of Astoria's position and once violated, it was the source of great resentment.

"Easy, Greengrass. I don't find foul-mouthed women attractive" replied Draco harshly but she only glared at him from half-closed eyes.

She was already opening her mouth to laugh him off but suddenly a thought struck her it all went _wrong_. Her body was slowly stiffening due to the overwhelming cold as Astoria remembered how long it has been since she decided to see him. Her cheeks were already red from chill but at the very moment they were burning from embarrassment. Days? Weeks? It were months. Four long months of feeding everyone including herself with lies. Four months of crying herself to sleep like the old times, hoping the reality was a bad dream that she would wake up from eventually. For four months Astoria kept his letter under her pillow like a 13-year-old, casting a spell so the parchment would not fall apart from constant unfolding.

Her coming over was not an impulse. It was a well-thought-out plan or so it seemed to be before. Now all the feelings she suppressed were gone, replaced by shame and soreness. Deep in thought, Astoria did not notice the moment she started to cry. The tears were slowly streaming down her face, burning her cheeks as she murmured:

"I shouldn't have come here."

Draco, who managed to smoke another cigarette by the time she spoke, nodded.

"Correct. Do you always react so _emotionally_ at your mistakes?"

A fake smile she gave him was the only response as Astoria continued her monologue.

"It was supposed to be different…" she started, wiping away the tears, careful not to ruin her make up. "I _planned_ this, everything… and yet, _you_ screwed it."

Draco laughed shortly before cupping her face in one hand.

"Careful, Astoria" he warned, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I have weakness for women crying because of me…" he continued, placing his other hand of her waist again. He lowered his head and whispered so close to her ear, his lips were brushing her skin. "If I get used to it, I start giving them _actual_ reasons to cry."

Despite his opened coat, Draco's body was still warm and Astoria hardly resisted clinging onto him. Instead she stood motionless, hoping he would not pull off.

"The one you were with seemed to enjoy herself" she murmured against his chest, doing her best to sound confident despite chattering from cold.

Draco tightened his grip on her as he replied:

"This is why I'm leaving with you."

* * *

"Will do?"

He was holding a half-drank bottle of fire whiskey in front of him and only when Astoria nodded, he poured the liquor onto the glasses. As he approached her with drinks in his hands, Astoria looked around the room.

It differed from the one she knew with its large wooden arc-shaped windows, showing the panorama of London from bird's eye view. It was much brighter with big crystal chandelier for seven candles and few smaller lamps placed on the opposite sides of the room, giving warm yellow light. The apartment seemed too spruced and cozy for a man, especially for a man like Draco Malfoy.

"Done judging?" he asked, bringing Astoria back to reality.

"Where are we?" she replied with a question, taking the glass from him.

"In a hotel room, thought it was a more appropriate place for one night stands" said Draco, sitting comfortably on the opposite side of the couch. Astoria smiled ironically to herself what did not skip Draco's attention.

"I still don't know what I _screwed_ " he reminded, crossing his legs. "Will you enlighten me?"

Astoria took a sip on her whiskey and winced slightly.

"I'll need more of that" she said, pointing at the glass "to talk openly about it."

"Not much more I suppose" murmured Draco as he passed her his own glass, saying: "You still keep off stronger alcohols, don't you?"

Astoria bit her lower lip and raised the other glass, looking hesitating and then she drained the liquor, distaste showing in her expression as felt the familiar burning in her mouth.

"I thought you liked me" she said, ignoring his question. She put empty glasses on the coffee table in front of her and studied her nails for a while before deciding to continue. "It seemed, to me… that you _cared_ to fix what was between us and I gave you no chance to do it _then_ so…"

"It was long time ago" interrupted her Draco. "You were definitely not the first woman I hooked up with more than once" he added, intending to sound nonchalant and indifferent but if Astoria looked at him in that very moment, she would see a small blush on his face.

"I had an impression we were slightly more than a hook up…" Astoria murmured, sounding a little wounded. "You made me feel as if I belonged" she said, avoiding his gaze. "…and later, when I left… I had no one who would truly understand me" she continued, shaking her head to emphasize her words.

"I thought about you a lot, Draco" she added quietly, turning her head to finally look at him.

"You did?"

He seemed truly surprised with her confession but then he remembered she was drunk and therefore could be talking nonsense. But Astoria was perfectly aware of her words and it was no longer her throat but all guts burning with shame as her eyes met those of Draco — completely unmoved despite her opening to him.

"The past few months… I spent surrounded by people whom _our kind_ used to despise" she started, fixing her gaze back on her hands. "The shoe is on the other foot now, _they_ treat purebloods as scumbag. They give us and our families a slating. If you want them to show you respect, you need to humble yourself in front of them, you need to pocket your pride and…"

"It's been this way for the past year, we had time to get used to the new reality" smirked Draco but there was a sign of sorrow in his eyes. "You need to pull yourself together" he added in a harsh tone.

"They take advantage of pureblood girls" continued Astoria as if she did not hear him. "Calling them whores only because of their origin, depriving from anything precious in them… Our values as purebloods are the subject of mockery, our…" she stooped, looking with question at Draco who leaned over her and placed his hand on her forehead.

"You have a temperature, that's why you talk rubbish" he sighed, getting up from the couch. "I might have some cooling potion on me" he murmured and disappeared in the other room that Astoria assumed must have been the bedroom.

Indeed, she was feverish but far from raving. The familiar burning was increasing with every moment, feelings of disappointment and humiliation slowly overwhelming her as Astoria realized Draco had not only underestimated her words but also had disregarded her confession. Feeling abashed, she decided to leave immediately but as she tried to get up, she felt a sudden dizziness. Forced to remain in her place, Astoria massaged her temples. The headache was increasing and she could not resist closing her eyes only if for a moment.

When Draco came back to the room, holding a tiny phial in his hand, Astoria was already asleep, half lying with her legs curled up on the couch. Her dress pulled up a little and Draco sighed heavily, noticing black suspenders that held her stockings.

"The snake you are indeed…" he murmured, crouching next to her and pouring the content of the phial down her throat.

Astoria choked, swallowing the liquor but did not wake up and as much as Draco did not like the idea, he picked her up from the coach and carried her to the other room that indeed, turned out to be a bedroom. A bedroom with mahogany furnitures and beige satin bedding that smelled of lavender.

Draco lied Astoria down on the bed, trying to avoid looking at her undergarment while taking off her pumps. Astoria moved in her sleep, turning to one side and curling one leg. Draco rolled his eyes but could not deny he found it hard to ignore the satin suspender on her thigh.

"Merlin, give me strength…" he hissed, covering her with quilt.

He had mixed feelings about the whole situation. On the one hand, Draco smelled a rat. Despite his family's trials being over, there were people in the Ministry of Magic eager to put him in Azkaban. Informing was very common within the circles of a former elite with his father in the lead and driven by sense of self-preservation, Draco had developed huge trust issues over the past year. The fact Astoria showed up so unexpectedly after months of silence raised doubts in him and restrained from opening to her.

On the other hand, Draco could not deny he felt relief when he saw her in the pub. For a fracture of a second he thought it was just another summer Wednesday — she came punctually at nine and would have a drink with him after which they would Apparate to his apartment and have sex. Later they would lay in the bed and talk, about everything and nothing. At some point he would tell her about his plans to move abroad and maybe he would even ask her to leave with him…

But it was not another summer Wednesday, they were long time strangers and she was probably her brother-in-law's informer who was supposed to help Theodore Nott putting Draco in Azkaban in revenge for his father's death.

Draco took a deep breath and sat down in an armchair next to the bed. He observed Astoria as she slept, counting her lashes in the candle light out of boredom. Then he noticed blue spots on her wrist. It took him a moment to understand it were bruises in shape of his fingers. Draco sighed and took his wand, murmuring a healing spell. Immediately, Astoria's skin returned to its natural, milky-white tone.

 _I thought about you a lot…_ her words sounded in his head and Draco still could not decide whether it was whiskey talking or Astoria herself. Some part of him wanted to trust her very badly. She was right from the beginning, they were alike — solitaire, misunderstood and rejected from the new society — and driven only by a masochistic desire to feel even more of an outcast made Draco deny it back then. But now…

As the morning approached, further meditations were abandoned with Draco falling asleep in the armchair, the last image he saw being Astoria's face.

* * *

"Rise and shine."

Astoria sat down and gave Draco a contemptuous look.

"My head is burning" she murmured with pretension, massaging her left temple.

"At least you no longer give more heat than a fireplace…" grumbled Draco, standing up from the armchair he slept in the night before. Only then Astoria noticed he held a porcelain cup in his hands.

"It had gone cold" he explained, noticing what caught her attention. "Same goes for breakfast" he added with a shadow of spite, looking in the direction of the second room.

Astoria nodded and reached for her pumps, standing by the bed. She then put the shoes on and slowly stood up from the bed.

"What hour is it?" she asked, arranging her crumpled dress.

"Past ten, you slept through the entire morning" emphasized Draco, leaning on the windowsill.

"Well, it is still morning to me" she replied with nonchalance that irritated him. "Can I use your bathroom?" she asked before covering her mouth to yawn.

"Make yourself at home" murmured Draco, pointing at the closed door between bed and wardrobe. He observed carefully as she walked through the room and disappeared behind the door, seeking anything that could help him expose her.

But there was nothing. Astoria acted natural and it crossed Draco's mind he was becoming paranoid to suspect her of having anything to do with Nott. Given her relationship with her sister, his suspicions were even more ungrounded. Unless she and Theodore were much closer than he had thought… _Bullshit_. But was it really? It all made too much sense. Astoria turned up out of the blue and slowly wrapped him around her finger, beguiling him with humbugs about her alleged trauma caused by the events preceding May's. What intention other than deception she could have had reappearing after months of silence? Feeding him with new baloney, she intended to arouse in him mercy and admiration of her made up strength.

Draco shook his head, wondering how was it possible a random woman made him so gullible. He took a tiny phial out of the pocket in his trousers and watched the liquor inside. At first glance it looked like water, clear and still but in reality, it was a very powerful serum. Draco walked over to the table where stood multiple plates with different foods and two pots — one with tea and another with coffee. He took the first one and poured the tea into an empty cup. He then opened the phial that he held in the other hand and mixed the liquors together with a teaspoon.

He was just about to have a smoke when he heard the sound of heels on the floor. Draco turned back to face her and suddenly, he felt _wrong_. He must have been a complete fool to believe this _nanette_ had anything to do with Theodore Nott. Regardless her attire, she looked so innocent that even looking at her made Draco feel wicked. With no make up and her hair tied in a braid, Astoria looked very young and when she pouted — malcontent with the breakfast buffet lacking in sweets — it made her look like a schoolgirl and not a grown woman.

"So…" she started, approaching him. "I hope for your understanding when it comes to _yesterday_. I've had too much and…" she rolled her eyes at herself as if to emphasize she scorned herself. "What I want to say is that I didn't mean anything I said yesterday."

"Anything?" Draco repeated, trying to hide his confusion.

"Anything" she nodded, reaching out for the teapot.

 _Two-faced bitch_.

"Here, it will make the headache go away" he said, offering Astoria the tea he had prepared earlier.

She tried to smile but ended up looking abashed as she took the cup from him.

"To drain" murmured Draco, taking out his wand as she drank.

With a shadow of bitterness, he thought that after all there must have been a reason for him to be considered _a boy who made all the wrong choices_ but it was already too late to turn back.

"Sit down" he said when Astoria put the empty cup away.

"I'm fine" she replied.

"I told you to sit the fuck down" Draco hissed, tightening his grip on the wand.

Astoria frowned as she sat obediently on a chair that stood by the table. Then she noticed the wand in his hand and suddenly, all blood drained off her face. She tried to stand up but Draco pointed the wand at her, asking harshly:

"You again having troubles with hearing?"

"What is wrong with you?" she asked.

There were tears in her eyes and she looked truly frightened.

"It's nothing personal" murmured Draco with no emotion in his voice. "It's just I don't trust you" he added and with a single point of his wand, he pinned Astoria's hands to the armrests of the chair with an invisible rope.

"You're fucked up!" she cried through the tears.


End file.
